i-NRLF 


B   3   32M    222 


THE    AWAKENING 

OF 

HELENA     RICHIE 


MARGARET    ANGLIN    EDITION 

WITH   PICTURES  OF   SCENES  IN  THE  PLAY 


HELENA      RICHIE 

[FROM    THE    PORTRAIT    BY    s.    DE    IVANOWSKI] 


I  See  p.  259 
RESTING     HER    CHEEK    ON    HIS    THATCH    OF    YELLOW    HAIR" 


THE  AWAKENING 
OF  HELENA  RICHIE 


BY 
MARGARET    DELANO 

AUTHOR  OF 
DR.  LAVENDAR'S  PEOPLE  "  "  OLD  CHESTER  TALES  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
WALTER   APPLETON    CLARK 


NEW    YORK    AND  LONDON 

HARPER   6-    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

MCMVI 


Copyright,  1905,  1906,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  July,  1906. 


TO 

LOR1N    DELANO 

MAY  12,  1906 


225939 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


1  RESTING   HER  CHEEK  ON   HIS   THATCH   OF   YELLOW 

HAIR" Frontispiece 

"PEERING  OUT  .  .  .  WITH  SERIOUS,  BLUE  EYES"   .    Facing p    40 
"HE  PUT  HIS  FACE  CLOSE  TO  HERS,  AND  STARED 

INTO  HER  EYES" 54 

"HER    SEWING    WAS    A    PATHETIC    BLUNDER    OF 

HASTE  AND  HAPPINESS" "       IOO 

"SAMUEL  SLID  INTO  A  CHAIR  NEAR  THE  DOOR".         "       160 
"WHEN  HE  HAD  GONE,  SHE  WENT  INTO  THE  PARLOR 

AND  SHUT  THE  DOOR"    .     .          "       186 

"HE   FOUND   HER   HUDDLED  AGAINST   THE   GATE 
POST,  WAITING  FOR  HIM" "      238 

"*DR.  KING,  HE  HAS  QUARRELLED  WITH  ME*"  .     .         "      288 
"  *  DR.  LAVENDAR,'  SAID  HELENA,  '  IN  REGARD  TO 

DAVID"' "332 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  HELENA  RICHIE 


CHAPTER   I 

* 

DR.  LAVENDAR  and  Goliath  had  toiled  up  the 
hill  to  call  on  old  Mr.  Benjamin  Wright;  when 
they  jogged  back  in  the  late  afternoon  it  was  with  the 
peculiai  complacency  which  follows  the  doing  of  a 
disagreeable  duty.  Goliath  had  not  liked  climbing 
the  hill,  for  a  heavy  rain  in  the  morning  had  turned 
the  clay  to  stiff  mud,  and  Dr.  Lavendar  had  not  liked 
calling  on  Benjamin  Wright. 

"But,  Daniel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  addressing  a 
small  old  dog  who  took  up  a  great  deal  more  room  on 
the  seat  of  the  buggy  than  he  was  entitled  to,  "  Daniel, 
my  boy,  you  don't  consult  your  likings  in  pastoral 
calls."  Then  he  looked  out  of  the  mud-spattered 
window  of  the  buggy,  at  a  house  by  the  roadside — 
"The  Stuffed  Animal  House,"  Old  Chester  children 
called  it,  because  its  previous  owner  had  been  a  taxi 
dermist  of  some  little  local  renown.  "That's  another 
visit  I  ought  to  make,"  he  reflected,  "but  it  can  wait 
until  next  week.  G'long,  Goliath!" 

Goliath  went  along,  and  Mrs.  Frederick  Richie,  who 
lived  in  the  Stuffed  Animal  House,  looking  listlessly 
from  an  upper  window,  saw  the  hood  of  the  buggy 

I 


OF    HELENA    RICHIE 


jogging  by  and  smiled  suddenly.  "Thank  Heaven!" 
she  said. 

Benjamin  Wright  had  not  thanked  Heaven  when 
Dr.  Lavendar  drove  away.  He  had  been  as  disagree 
able  as  usual  to  his  visitor,  but  being  a  very  lonely  old 
man  he  enjoyed  having  a  visitor  to  whom  to  be  dis 
agreeable.  He  lived  on  his  hilltop  a  mile  out  of  Old 
Chester,  with  his  "nigger"  Simmons,  his  canary-birds, 
and  his  temper.  More  than  thirty  years  before  he  had 
quarrelled  with  his  only  son  Samuel,  and  the  two  men 
had  not  spoken  to  each  other  since.  Old  Chester  never 
knew  what  this  quarrel  had  been  about  ;  Dr.  Lavendar, 
speculating  upon  it  as  he  and  Goliath  went  squashing 
through  the  mud  that  April  afternoon,  wondered  which 
was  to  blame.  "Pot  and  kettle,  probably,"  he  de 
cided.  "Samuel's  goodness  is  very  irritating  some 
times,  and  Benjamin's  badness  is  —  well,  it's  not  as 
distressing  as  it  should  be.  But  what  a  forlorn  old 
critter  he  is!  And  this  Mrs.  Richie  is  lonely  too—  a 
widow,  with  no  children,  poor  woman!  I  must  call 
next  week.  Goliath  wouldn't  like  to  turn  round  now 
and  climb  the  hill  again.  Danny,  I  fear  Goliath  is 
very  selfish." 

Goliath's  selfishness  carried  them  home  and  landed 
Dr.  Lavendar  at  his  own  fireside,  rather  tired  and  full 
of  good  intentions  in  regard  to  calls.  He  confided 
these  intentions  to  Dr.  William  King  who  looked  in 
after  supper  to  inquire  about  his  cold. 

"Cold?  I  haven't  any  cold!  You  can't  get  a  job 
here.  Sit  down  and  give  me  some  advice.  Hand 
me  a  match  first;  this  ragamuffin  Danny  has  gone 
to  sleep  with  his  head  on  my  foot,  and  I  can't 
budge." 

The  doctor  produced  the  match;  "I'll  advise  you 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

not  to  go  out  in  such  weather.  Promise  me  you  won't 
go  out  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow?  Right  after  breakfast,  sir!  To  make 
calls  on  the  people  I've  neglected.  Willy,  how  can  I 
find  a  home  for  an  orphan  child  ?  A  parson  up  in  the 
mountains  has  asked  me  to  see  if  I  can  place  a  little 
seven-year-old  boy.  The  child's  sister  who  took  care 
of  him  has  just  died.  Do  you  know  anybody  who 
might  take  him?" 

"Well,"  said  Willy  King,  "there's  Mrs.  Richie." 

Dr.  Lavendar  looked  at  him  over  his  spectacles. 
"Mrs.  Frederick  Richie?  —  though  I  understand  she 
calls  herself  Mrs.  Helena  Richie.  I  don't  like  a  young 
female  to  use  her  own  name,  William,  even  if  she  is  a 
widow!  Still,  she  may  be  a  nice  woman  I  suppose. 
Do  you  think  a  little  boy  would  have  a  good  home 
with  her?" 

"Well,"  the  doctor  demurred,  "of  course,  we  know 
very  little  about  her.  She  has  only  been  here  six 
months.  But  I  should  think  she  was  just  the  person 
to  take  him.  She  is  mighty  good-looking,  isn't 
she?" 

"Yes,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said,  "she  is.  And  other 
things  being  equal  I  prefer  a  good-looking  woman. 
But  I  don't  know  that  her  looks  are  a  guarantee  that 
she  can  train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go.  Can't 
you  think  of  anybody  else?" 

"I  don't  see  why  you  don't  like  Mrs.  Richie?" 

"I  never  said  I  didn't  like  her,"  protested  Dr. 
Lavendar;  "but  she's  a  widow." 

"Unless  she  murdered  the  late  Richie,  that's  not 
against  her." 

"Widows  don't  always  stay  widows,  Willy." 

"I  don't  believe  she's  the  marrying  kind,"  William 

3 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

said.  "I  have  a  sort  of  feeling  that  the  deceased 
Richie  was  not  the  kind  of  husband  who  receives  the 
compliment  of  a  successor — " 

"Hold  on;  you're  mixing  things  up!  It's  the  bad 
husband  and  the  good  wife  that  get  compliments  of 
that  kind." 

William  laughed  as  he  was  expected  to,  but  he  stuck 
to  his  opinion  that  Mrs.  Richie  had  had  enough  of  hus 
bands.  "  And  anyway,  she's  devoted  to  her  brother — 
though  he  doesn't  come  to  see  her  very  often." 

"There's  another  point,"  objected  Dr.  Lavendar; 
"  what  kind  of  a  man  is  this  Mr.  Pryor  ?  Danny  growled 
at  him  once,  which  prejudiced  me  against  him." 

"I  don't  take  to  him  much  myself,"  William  King 
confessed;  "though  I  must  say  he  seems  a  decent  man 
enough.  He  doesn't  cultivate  acquaintances  in  Old 
Chester,  but  that  only  shows  bad  taste." 

"She  says  he  is  not  very  well,"  Dr.  Lavendar  ex 
plained  ;  "she  says  he  likes  to  keep  quiet  when  he  comes 
down  here." 

"I  don't  see  anything  wrong  with  him." 

"  Hasn't  taken  any  of  your  pills  ?  Maybe  he  doesn't 
believe  in  doctors.  I  don't  myself." 

"Thank  you,"  said  William  King. 

"There's  too  much  fuss  anyway  over  our  precious 
carcasses!  And  you  fellows  encourage  it,"  Dr.  Laven 
dar  grumbled.  Then  he  said  he  wished  he  knew  more 
about  Mrs.  Richie.  "I  ask  you  for  information  and 
all  you  say  is  that  she's  good-looking,  and  her  brother 
doesn't  take  your  pills." 

William  laughed. 

"She  doesn't  come  to  church  very  regularly,  and 
she  never  stops  afterwards  to  talk,"  Dr.  Lavendar 
ruminated. 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Well,  she  lives  'way  up  there  on  the  hill  road — " 

"Yes,  she  does  live  pretty  far  out  of  town,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  admitted,  "but  that's  not  a  reason  for  not 
being  neighborly  after  church." 

"She's  shy,"  said  William  King,  "that's  all.  Shy 
ness  isn't  anything  very  wrong.  And  she's  mighty 
pleasant  when  she  does  talk  to  you.  I  tell  you  Dr. 
Lavendar,  pleasantness  goes  a  good  way  in  this  world. 
I'd  say  it  was  better  than  goodness — only  they  are 
the  same  thing." 

"No,  they're  not,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"I  grant  she  doesn't  belong  to  the  sewing  society," 
William  said  grinning.  "Martha  says  that  some  of 
the  ladies  say  she  doesn't  show  proper  grief  for  her 
husband.  She  actually  smiles  sometimes!  They  say 
that  if  the  Lord  were  to  remove  their  beloved  hus 
bands,  they  would  never  smile  again." 

"William,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  chuckling,  "I  begin 
to  like  your  widow." 

"She's  not  my  widow,  thank  you!  But  she's  a 
nice  woman,  and  she  must  be  pretty  lonely  up  there 
all  by  herself." 

"Wish  I  had  gone  in  to  see  her  this  afternoon,"  the 
old  man  said  thoughtfully.  "As  you  say  she  may  be 
a  suitable  person  to  take  this  little  boy.  I  wonder  if 
she's  going  to  stay  in  Old  Chester?" 

"  Sam  Wright  says  she  has  spoken  to  him  of  buying 
the  house.  That  looks  as  if  she  meant  to  settle  down. 
Did  you  know  that  Sam's  Sam  is  casting  sheep's  eyes 
at  her?" 

"Why,  she's  old  enough  to  be  his  mother!"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar. 

"Oh,  no.  Sam's  Sam  is  twenty-three,  and  one  of 
my  patients  says  that  Mrs.  Richie  will  never  see  forty- 

5 


THE    AWAKENING     OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

five  again.  Which  leads  me  to  conclude  that  she's 
about  thirty." 

"Of  course  she  doesn't  encourage  him?"  Dr.  Laven- 
dar  said  anxiously. 

11  She  lets  him  come  to  see  her,  and  she  took  him  out 
once  in  that  wicker-work  vehicle  she  has — looks  like 
a  clothes  -  basket  on  wheels.  And  she  provides  the 
clothes  to  put  into  it.  I'm  told  they're  beautiful;  but 
that  no  truly  pious  female  would  be  willing  to  decorate 
poor  flesh  and  blood  with  such  finery.  I'm  told — 

"William!  Is  this  the  way  I've  brought  you  up? 
To  pander  to  my  besetting  sin?  Hold  your  tongue!" 
Dr.  Lavendar  rose  chuckling,  and  stood  in  front  of 
the  fireplace,  gathering  the  tails  of  his  flowered  cash 
mere  dressing-gown  under  his  arms.  "But  Willy  I 
hope  Sam  isn't  really  smitten?  You  never  can  tell 
what  that  boy  will  do." 

"Yes,  he's  a  hair-trigger,"  the  doctor  agreed,  "a 
hair-trigger!  And  his  father  understands  him  about 
as  well  as — as  Danny  there  understands  Hebrew!  I 
think  it's  a  case  of  Samuel  and  his  lather  over  again. 
Dr.  Lavendar,  do  you  suppose  anybody  will  ever 
know  what  those  two  quarrelled  about?" 

"Probably  not." 

"I  suppose,"  William  King  ruminated,  "that  you'd 
call  Sam  a  genius?" 

"No,  I  wouldn't;  he  has  no  patience.  You  can't 
have  genius  without  patience.  Sam  hasn't  a  particle." 

"Well,"  the  doctor  explained,  "he  hasn't  the  slight 
est  sense  of  responsibility ;  and  I  notice  that  when  peo 
ple  have  no  sense  of  responsibility,  you  call  them  either 
criminals  or  geniuses." 

"I  don't,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  dryly,  "I  call  'em  poor 
critters,  either  way.  But  Willy,  about  this  little  boy; 

6 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

the  great  point  is  who  needs  him?  I  expect  he'll  be 
here  on  Saturday." 

"What!  This  week?  But  you  haven't  found  any 
body  to  take  him." 

"Oh,  he'll  stay  with  me  for  a  while.  Mary  '11  look 
after  him.  And  I'll  play  marbles  with  him.  Got  any 
white  alleys  ?  Gimme  six,  and  I'll  give  you  an  agate." 

"But  Dr.  Lavendar,  that  will  be  a  nuisance  to  you," 
William  King  protested.  "Let  me  take  him.  Or,  at 
least  —  I'll  ask  Martha;  she's  house  -  cleaning  now, 
and  she  says  she's  very  tired;  so  I'm  not  sure — " 
William  ended  weakly. 

"No,  no;  I  want  him  myself,"  said  the  old  minister. 

"Well,"  Dr.  King  said  with  evident  relief,  "shall 
I  speak  to  Mrs.  Richie  about  him?  I'm  going  up  there 
to-morrow ;  she's  got  a  sick  cook,  and  she  asked  me  to 
call.  What's  his  name?" 

"David  Allison.  You  might  sound  her  William, 
but  don't  be  definite.  Don't  give  her  any  chance  to 
say  yes  or  no.  I  want  to  know  her  a  little  better  be 
fore  I  make  up  my  mind.  When  the  boy  comes  I'll 
happen  along  in  my  buggy  with  him,  and  then  we'll 
see.  And  meantime  Willy,  keep  your  eye  on  Sam's 
Sam.  He  mustn't  get  too  much  interested  up  there. 
A  little  falling  in  love  with  an  older  woman  doesn't 
hurt  most  boys;  in  fact,  it's  part  of  their  growing  up 
and  likely  as  not  it  does  'em  good.  But  Sam's  Sam 
isn't  like  most  boys." 

"That's  so,"  said  William  King,  "he  may  not  be  a 
genius  and  he  certainly  isn't  a  criminal,  but  he  has 
about  as  much  stability  as  a  sky-rocket." 


CHAPTER  II 

"'WOU   can't  think  of  anybody  who  might  like  to 

I  take  this  little  David  Allison,  can  you,  my  dear  ?" 
William  King  asked  his  wife  at  breakfast  the  next 
morning. 

"I  certainly  cannot,"  Martha  said  decidedly.  "I 
think  it's  a  very  dangerous  thing  to  take  unknown 
children  into  your  family.  I  suppose  you  think  I 
ought  to  offer  to  do  it?  But  in  the  first  place,  I'm 
very  tired,  and  in  the  second  place,  I  don't  like  boys. 
If  it  was  a  girl  it  might  be  different." 

"No  doubt  we  could  find  a  girl,"  William  began, 
but  she  interrupted  him. 

"Girls  are  a  great  expense.  And  then,  as  I  said — 
unknown  children! — they  might  turn  into  anything. 
They  might  have  evil  tendencies ;  they  probably  have. 
If  the  parents  die  early,  it's  a  sign  of  weakness  of  some 
sort.  I've  no  doubt  this  boy's  father  drank.  I  don't 
want  to  seem  unkind,  but  I  must  say  flatly  and  frankly 
that  considering  how  hard  it  is  for  us  to  make  both 
ends  meet — as  you  keep  up  a  sort  of  free  practice — 
I  don't  think  it's  prudent  to  suggest  any  new  respon 
sibilities  and  expenses." 

"Oh,  I  wasn't  making  suggestions,"  William  King 
said.  "I  guess  we're  not  the  people  to  bring  up  a 
child.  I'd  spoil  him,  I've  no  doubt." 

"I'm  sure  you  would!"  Martha  said,  greatly  relieved. 

8 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"It  would  be  the  worst  possible  thing  for  him.  But 
Willy,  there's  that  Mrs.  Richie?" 

"You  think  his  evil  tendencies  wouldn't  hurt  her?" 
the  doctor  said  dryly. 

"I  think  she's  a  rich  woman,  so  why  shouldn't  she 
do  a  thing  like  that?  I'll  go  and  see  her  if  you  want 
me  to — though  she  never  makes  you  feel  welcome ;  and 
tell  her  about  the  boy?" 

"You  needn't  bother;  Dr.  Lavendar  will  see  her 
himself." 

"I  don't  understand  that  woman,"  Mrs.  King  said. 
"She  keeps  herself  to  herself  too  much.  It  almost 
looks  as  if  she  didn't  think  we  were  good  enough  to 
associate  with  her!" 

William  made  no  reply. 

"Willy,  does  she  use  perfumery?" 

"How  in  the  world  should  I  know!" 

"Well,  there's  a  sort  of  fragrance  about  her.  It 
isn't  like  cologne,  it's  like — well,  orris-root." 

William  made  no  comment. 

"It's  a  kind  of  sachet,  I  guess;  I'd  like  to  know 
what  it  is.  Willy,  Sam  Wright's  Sam  went  out  walk 
ing  with  her  yesterday.  I  met  them  on  the  River 
Road.  I  believe  the  boy  is  in  love  with  her!" 

"He's  got  eyes,"  William  agreed. 

"Tck!"  said  Martha,  "the  idea  of  calling  her  good- 
looking!  And  I  don't  think  it  speaks  well  for  a  woman 
of  her  age — she's  forty  if  sha's  a  day — to  let  a  boy 
trail  round  after  her  like  that.  And  to  fix  herself  up 
with  sachet -powders  and  things.  And  her  Sarah  told 
the  Draytons'  Jean  that  she  had  her  breakfast  in  bed 
every  morning!  I'd  like  to  know  how  my  housekeep 
ing  would  go  on  if  7  had  breakfast  in  bed,  though  dear 
knows  I'm  very  tired  and  it  would  be  pleasant  enough. 

9 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

But  there's  one  thing  about  me:  I  may  not  be  perfect, 
but  I  don't  do  lazy  things  just  because  they  are  pleas 
ant." 

The  doctor  made  no  defence  of  Mrs.  Richie.  Instead 
he  asked  for  another  cup  of  coffee  and  when  told  that  it 
would  not  be  good  for  him,  got  up,  then  paused  patiently, 
his  hand  on  the  door-knob,  to  hear  his  Martha  out. 

"William,  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  last  thing 
Sam  Wright's  Sam  has  done?" 

The  doctor  confessed  his  ignorance. 

"Well,  his  father  sent  him  to  Mercer  on  Monday  to 
buy  supplies  for  the  bank.  He  gave  him  seventy-five 
dollars.  Back  comes  my  young  gentleman  with — 
what  do  y  ou  suppose  ?  A  lot  of  pictures  of  actors  and 
actresses!  And  no  supplies." 

"What!  you  don't  mean  he  spent  the  money  on  the 
pictures?" 

"Every  bit  of  it!  His  mother  came  in  and  told  me 
about  it  last  night.  She  said  his  father  was  frantic. 
She  was  dreadfully  upset  herself.  As  for  Sam,  he 
kept  saying  that  the  'prints,'  as  he  called  them,  were 
very  valuable.  Though  I'm  sure  I  can't  see  why; 
they  were  only  of  actor  people,  and  they  had  all  died 
sixty  or  seventy  years  ago." 

"Actors!"  the  doctor  said.  " Poor  Samuel!  he  hates 
the  theatre.  I  do  believe  he'd  rather  have  pictures  of 
the  devil." 

"Oh,  but  wait.  You  haven't  heard  the  rest  of  it. 
It  appears  that  when  the  boy  looked  at  'em  yesterday 
morning  he  found  they  weren't  as  valuable  as  he 
thought — I  don't  understand  that  part  of  it,"  Martha 
acknowledged — "so  what  does  he  do  but  march  down- 
!  stairs,  and  put  'em  all  in  the  kitchen  stove!  What 
do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

10 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  think,"  said  William  King,  "that  he  has  always 
gone  off  at  half  -  cock  ever  since  he  was  born.  But 
Martha,  the  serious  thing  is  his  spending  money  that 
didn't  belong  to  him." 

"I  should  think  it  was  serious!  If  he'd  been  some 
poor  little  clerk  in  the  bank,  instead  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Wright's  only  son,  he  would  have  found  it  was  serious! 
Willy,  what  do  you  make  of  him?" 

"He  is  queer,"  William  said;  "queer  as  Dick's  hat 
band;  but  that's  all.  Sam  wouldn't  do  a  mean  thing, 
or  a  dirty  thing,  any  more  than  a  girl  would." 

"And  now  he  thinks  he's  in  love  with  this  Richie 
woman,"  Martha  went  on — but  William  made  his  es 
cape.  He  had  to  go  and  hitch  up,  he  said. 

Before  he  took  Jinny  out  of  her  stall  he  went  into 
the  harness-room  and  hunted  about  on  a  shelf  until, 
behind  a  rusty  currycomb  and  two  empty  oil-bottles, 
he  found  a  small  mirror.  It  was  misty  and  flecked 
with  clear  spots  where  the  quicksilver  had  dropped 
away,  but  when  he  propped  it  against  the  cobwebbed 
window  he  could  see  himself  fairly  well.  Staring  into 
its  dim  depths  he  retied  his  necktie;  then  he  backed 
the  buggy  out  of  the  carriage-house.  But  after  he 
had  put  his  mare  between  the  shafts  he  hesitated.  .  .  . 
The  buggy  was  very  shabby;  it  sagged  badly  on  the 
right  side  and  there  was  a  rent  in  the  faded  cushion. 
The  doctor  looked  at  his  watch.  .  .  .  Then,  hurriedly, 
led  Jinny  back  to  her  stall,  got  a  bucket  of  water  and 
a  sponge,  and  washed  off  the  dashboard  and  wheels. 
After  that  he  fumbled  along  a  dusty  beam  to  find  a 
bottle  of  oil  with  which  he  touched  up  the  harness. 
But  when  all  was  done  he  shook  his  Head.  The  buggy 
was  hopeless.  Nevertheless,  when  he  climbed  in  and 
slapped  Jinny's  flank  with  the  newly  oiled  rein  he  was 

a  II 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

careful  to  sit  in  the  middle  of  the  seat  to  make  the 
springs  truer,  and  he  avoided  the  mud-puddles  on  the 
road  up  to  the  Stuffed  Animal  House.  There  were  a 
good  many  puddles,  for  it  had  rained  the  day  before. 
To-day  the  clouds  had  gathered  up  behind  the  hills 
into  white  domes,  but  the  sky  was  that  faint  April 
blue  that  dims  easily  into  warm  mists.  There  was  the 
smell  of  earth,  the  fainter  scent  of  unopened  buds, 
and  from  the  garden  borders  of  the  Stuffed  Animal 
House  came  the  pungent  odor  of  box. 

Helena  Richie,  standing  by  a  bed  of  crown -imperials, 
bareheaded,  a  trowel  in  her  gloved  hand,  her  smooth 
cheek  flushed  with  the  unwonted  exertion  of  planting 
seeds,  caught  the  exquisite  breath  of  the  box,  and 
sighed;  then,  listlessly,  she  turned  to  walk  back  tow 
ards  the  house.  Before  she  reached  it  the  gate  clicked 
and  Dr.  King  came  up  the  path.  She  saw  him  and 
looked  hurriedly  about,  as  if  seeking  a  way  of  escape, 
but  it  was  too  late. 

"Gardening?"  he  called  to  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  her  smile  like  reluctant  sunshine 
did  not  betray  to  the  doctor  that  he  was  not  welcome. 

"Don't  work  too  hard,"  he  cautioned  her.  It 
seemed  to  William  King,  looking  at  her  with  wonder 
ing  admiration,  that  she  was  too  delicate  a  creature 
to  handle  a  trowel.  There  was  a  certain  soft  indolence 
in  the  way  she  moved  that  was  a  delight  to  his  eye. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  ask  his  Martha  why 
she  didn't  wear  gardening-gloves.  Mrs.  Richie  wors 
them,  and  as  she  pulled  one  off  he  saw  how  soft  and 
white  her  hand  was.  .  .  . 

"How's  the  patient?"  he  asked. 

"Poor  Maggie?  Oh,  she's  pretty  uncomfortable 
I'm  afraid." 

12 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

They  had  gone  together  to  the  front  porch,  and  as 
she  stood  on  the  lower  step  looking  up  at  him,  the 
sunshine  suddenly  filled  her  eyes  with  limpid  brown 
light.  "Maggie  is  in  her  room  in  the  ell  —  the  first 
door  on  the  left.  Shall  I  show  you  the  way?" 

"I  know  the  way,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Richie  sat  down  on  the  porch  step  to  wait  for 
him.  She  had  nothing  else  to  do.  She  never  had 
anything  to  do.  She  had  tried  to  be  interested  in  the 
garden,  and  bought  a  trowel  and  some  seeds  and 
wandered  out  into  the  borders;  but  a  manufactured 
interest  has  no  staying  quality — especially  if  it  involves 
any  hard  work.  She  was  glad  when  William  King 
came  back  and  sat  down  beside  her;  sickness  was  not 
an  agreeable  topic,  but  it  was  a  topic. 

"Maggie  will  be  all  right  in  two  or  three  days,  but 
don't  let  her  go  into  the  kitchen  before  Monday.  A 
bad  throat  pulls  you  down.  And  she's  had  a  good 
deal  of  pain." 

"Oh,  poor  Maggie!"  she  said  wincing. 

"A  sore  throat  is  nothing  so  very  dreadful,"  William 
assured  her  with  open  amusement. 

She  drew  a  breath  of  relief.  "Oh,  I'm  glad!  I 
can't  bear  to  think  of  pain."  Then  she  looked  at 
him  anxiously.  "Don't  you  think  she  can  cook  be 
fore  Monday?  I'm  so  tired  of  scrappy  dinners. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  "William  King  said.  "I'm  very  sorry." 
But  that  his  sorrow  was  not  for  Maggie  was  evident. 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Richie;  and  then  her  eyes 
crinkled  with  gayety  at  his  concern.  "I  don't  really 
mind,  Dr.  King." 

"I  shouldn't  blame  you  if  you  did.  Nobody  likes 
scrappy  dinners.  I  wish  you  would  come  down  and 
have  dinner  with  us?" 

13 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Oh,  thank  you,  no,"  she  said.  And  the  sudden 
shy  retreat  into  her  habitual  reserve  was  followed  by 
a  silence  that  suggested  departure  to  the  doctor.  As 
he  got  up  he  remembered  Dr.  Lavendar  and  the  little 
boy,  but  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  introduce  the  sub 
ject.  In  his  perplexity  he  frowned,  and  Mrs.  Richie 
said  quickly: 

"Of  course  she  sha'n't  do  any  work.  I'm  not  so 
bad-tempered  as  you  think ;  I  only  meant  that  I  don't 
like  discomfort." 

"  You  bad-tempered?"  he  said.  "No,  indeed! 
You're  just  the  opposite.  That's  why  I  suggested 
you  when  I  heard  about  this  boy." 

"What  boy?" 

"Why,  a  little  fellow  of  seven — David  his  name  is 
— that  Dr.  Lavendar  is  trying  to  find  a  home  for. 
And  I  thought  perhaps  you — 

" — would  take  him?"  cried  Mrs.  Richie  in  astonish 
ment,  and  then  she  laughed.  "//" 

"Why,  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  you  might 
be  lonely,  and — " 

Helena  Richie  stopped  laughing;  she  pulled  off  her 
other  glove  and  looked  down  at  her  white  hands. 
"Well,  yes,  I'm  lonely.  But — I  don't  like  children, 
Dr.  King." 

"You  don't?"  he  said  blankly,  and  in  his  surprise 
he  sat  down  again.  "Oh,  I'm  sure  that's  only  because 
you  don't  know  them.  If  you  had  ever  known  a 
child—" 

"I  have,"  Mrs.  Richie  said,  "one."  Her  voice  was 
bleak ;  the  gayety  had  dropped  out  of  it ;  for  an  instant 
she  looked  old.  William  King  understood. 

"It  died?" 

She  nodded.  She  began  to  pull  her  gloves  on 

14 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

again,  smoothing  down  each  finger  carefully  and  not 
looking  at  him. 

"A  little  girl?" 

"Boy."  She  turned  her  face  away,  but  he  saw  her 
chin  tremble.  There  was  a  moment's  silence;  then 
the  doctor  said  with  curious  harshness. 

"Well,  anyhow,  you  know  what  it  means  to  have 
owned  your  own." 

"Better  not  have  known!" 

"I  can't  feel  that.  But  perhaps  I  don't  under 
stand." 

"You  don't  understand."  Her  head,  with  its  two 
soft  braids  wound  around  it  like  a  wreath,  was  bent 
so  that  he  could  not  see  her  face.  "Dr.  King,  his 
father  —  hurt  him.  Yes;  hurt  a  little  baby,  eight 
months  and  twelve  days  old.  He  died  seven  weeks 
•later." 

William  drew  in  his  breath ;  he  found  no  words. 

"That  was  twelve  years  ago,  but  I  can't  seem  to — 
to  get  over  it,"  she  said  with  a  sort  of  gasp. 

"But  how—"  Dr.  King  began. 

"Oh,  he  was  not  himself.  He  was — happy.  I  be 
lieve  you  call  it  'happy'?" 

"How  did  you  bear  it!" 

"  I  didn't  bear  it  I  suppose.     I  never  have  borne  it!" 

"Did  he  repent  before  he  died?"  William  King  said 
passionately. 

"Before  he — ?"  Her  voice  suddenly  shook;  she 
made  elaborate  pretence  of  calmness,  fastening  her 
gloves  and  looking  at  them  critically;  then  she  said: 
"Yes,  Dr.  King;  he  repented.  He  repented!" 

"If  there  ever  was  excuse  for  divorce,  you  had  it!" 

"You  don't  think  there  ever  is  ?"  she  asked  absently. 

"No,"  William  said.     "I  suppose  you'll  think  I'm 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

very  old-fashioned,  but  I  don't,  unless — "  he  stopped 
short;  he  could  not  have  put  his  qualifying  thought 
into  words  to  any  woman,  especially  not  to  this  wom 
an,  so  like  a  girl  in  spite  of  her  thirty-odd  years.  "You 
see,"  he  said,  awkwardly,  "it's  such  an  unusual  thing. 
It  never  happened  in  Old  Chester;  why,  I  don't  believe 
I  ever  saw  a — a  divorced  person  in  my  life!" 

"Well,"  she  said,  "anyhow,  I  didn't  get  a  divorce. 

"  Mrs.  Richie!"  he  said,  blushing  to  his  temples, 
"  you  didn't  think  I  thought  of  such  a  thing?" 

But  it  was  plain  that  she  regretted  her  confidence; 
she  rose  with  the  evident  purpose  of  changing  the  sub 
ject.  "I  must  go  and  put  in  some  more  seeds.  Why 
doesn't  Dr.  Lavendar  keep  this  little  boy?  After  all, 
he's  lonely  himself." 

"Well,  he's  an  old  man  you  know,  and — " 

"Dr.  King,"  she  broke  in,  "I  don't  mind  having 
the  child  here  for  a  week  while  Dr.  Lavendar  is  looking 
for  somebody  to  take  him.  Not  longer.  It  wouldn't 
do.  Really  it  wouldn't.  But  for  a  week,  perhaps, 
or  maybe  two — " 

"That  would  be  a  great  help,"  William  King  said. 
"Then  Dr.  Lavendar  can  have  plenty  of  time  to  find 
a  home  for  him.  I  would  have  been  glad  to  take  him 
myself,  but  just  at  present  it  happens  that  it  is  not — 
I  should  say,  Mrs.  King  is  very  tired,  and— 

"  It  is  perfectly  convenient  for  me,"  Mrs.  Richie  said, 
"if  you'll  only  cure  Maggie!  You  must  cure  Maggie, 
so  that  she  can  make  cookies  for  him." 

"I'll  cure  Maggie,"  the  doctor  assured  her  smiling, 
and  went  away  much  pleased  with  himself.  But  when 
he  got  into  his  shabby  old  buggy  he  sighed. 

"Poor  soul!"  he  said.     "Poor  soul!" 


CHAPTER   III 

WILLIAM  KING  reported  the  result  of  his  call  to 
Dr.  Lavendar,  and  when  he  told  the  tragic  story 
of  the  dead  baby  the  old  man  blinked  and  shook  his 
head. 

"Do  you  wonder  she  doesn't  call  herself  Mrs. 
Frederick  Richie?"  William  demanded.  "I  don't!" 

"No;  that's  natural,  that's  natural,"  Dr.  Lavendar 
admitted. 

"I  suppose  it  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  say,"  said 
William,  "but  I  just  burst  out  and  said  that  if  ever 
there  was  an  excuse  for  divorce,  she  had  it!" 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"Oh,  of  course,  that  she  hadn't  been  divorced.  I 
was  ashamed  of  myself  the  next  minute  for  speaking 
of  such  a  thing." 

"Poor  child,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "living  up  there 
alone,  and  with  such  memories!  I  guess  you're  right; 
I  guess  she'd  like  to  have  little  David,  if  only  for  com 
pany.  But  I  think  I'll  keep  him  for  a  week  or  two 
myself,  and  let  her  get  sort  of  acquainted  with  him 
under  my  eye.  That  will  give  me  a  chance  to  get 
acquainted  with  her.  But  to  think  I  haven't  known 
about  that  baby  until  now!  It  must  be  my  fault  that 
she  was  not  drawn  to  tell  me.  But  I'm  afraid  I  wasn't 
drawn  to  her  just  at  first." 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Yet  Dr.  Lavendar  was  not  altogether  at  fault.  This 
newcomer  in  Old  Chester  was  still  a  stranger  to  every 
body,  except  to  Sam  Wright's  Sam  and  to  William 
King.  To  be  sure,  as  soon  as  she  was  settled  in  her 
house  Old  Chester  had  called  and  asked  her  to  tea, 
and  was  confused  and  annoyed  because  its  invitations 
were  not  accepted.  Furthermore,  she  did  not  return 
the  calls.  She  went  to  church,  but  not  very  regularly, 
and  she  never  stopped  to  gossip  in  the  vestibule  or  the 
church -yard.  Even  with  Dr.  Lavendar  she  was  re 
mote.  The  first  time  he  went  to  see  her  he  asked, 
with  his  usual  directness,  one  or  two  questions:  Did 
Mr.  Pryor  live  in  Mercer?  No;  he  had  business  that 
brought  him  there  occasionally.  Where  did  he  live? 
In  Philadelphia.  Had  she  any  relatives  in  this  part 
of  the  world — except  her  brother?  No,  none;  none 
anywhere.  Was  Mr.  Pryor  married?  Yes.  Had  he 
any  family?  One  daughter ;  his  wife  was  dead.  "And 
you  have  lost  your  husband?"  Dr.  Lavendar  said, 
gently.  "This  is  a  lonely  life  for  you  here,  I  am 
afraid." 

But  she  said  oh,  no;  not  at  all;  she  liked  the  quiet. 
Then,  with  faint  impatience  as  if  she  did  not  care  to 
talk  about  her  own  affairs,  she  added  that  she  had 
always  lived  in  the  East;  "but  I  find  it  very  pleasant 
here,"  she  ended  vaguely. 

Dr.  Lavendar  had  gone  away  uneasy  and  puzzled. 
Why  didn't  she  live  with  her  brother  ?  Family  differ 
ences  no  doubt.  Curious  how  families  fall  out !  "You'd 
think  they'd  be  glad  to  hang  together,"  the  solitary 
old  man  thought;  "and  they  are  not  necessarily  bad 
folk  who  quarrel.  Look  at  Sam  and  his  boy.  Both 
of  'em  good  as  gold.  But  it's  in  the  blood  there,"  he 
said  to  himself  sighing. 

18 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Sam  and  his  son  were  not  bad  folk.  The  boy  had 
nothing  bad  about  him;  nothing  worse  than  an  unex 
pectedness  that  had  provided  Old  Chester  with  smiles 
for  many  years.  "No;  he  is  not  bad;  I  have  seen  to 
that,"  his  father  used  to  say.  "He's  hardly  been  out 
of  my  sight  twenty-four  hours  at  a  time.  And  I  put 
my  foot  down  on  college  with  all  its  temptations. 
He's  good  —  if  he's  nothing  else!"  And  certainly 
Samuel  Wright  was  good  too.  Everybody  in  Old 
Chester  said  so.  He  said  so  himself.  "I,  my  dear 
Eliza,  have  nothing  with  which  to  reproach  myself," 
he  used  to  tell  his  wife  ponderously  in  moments  of 
conjugal  unbending.  "I  have  done  my  duty.  I  al 
ways  do  my  duty ;  under  all  circumstances.  I  am 
doing  my  duty  now  by  Sam." 

This  was  when  he  and  his  son  fell  out  on  one  point 
or  another,  as  they  had  begun  to  do  as  soon  as  young 
Sam  learned  to  talk ;  and  ail  because  the  father  insisted 
upon  furnishing  the  boy  with  his  own  most  excellent 
principles  and  theories,  instead  of  letting  the  lad 
manufacture  such  things  for  himself.  Now  when  Sam 
was  twenty-three  the  falling-out  had  become  chronic. 
No  doubt  it  was  in  the  blood,  as  Dr.  Lavendar  said. 
Some  thirty  years  before,  Sam  senior,  then  a  slim  and 
dreamy  youth,  light  -  hearted  and  given  to  writing 
verses,  had  fallen  out  with  his  father,  old  Benjamin 
Wright;  fallen  out  so  finally  that  in  all  these  years 
since,  the  two  men,  father  and  son,  had  not  spoken 
one  word  to  each  other.  If  anybody  might  have  been 
supposed  to  know  the  cause  of  that  thirty-year-old 
feud  it  was  Dr.  Lavendar.  He  certainly  saw  the  be 
ginning  of  it.  ... 

One  stormy  March  evening  Samuel  Wright,  then 
twenty -four  years  old,  knocked  at  the  Rectory  door; 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar,  shielding  his  lamp  from  the  wind  with 
one  hand,  opened  it  himself. 

"Why,  Sam,  my  boy,"  he  said  and  stopped  abrupt 
ly.  He  led  the  way  into  his  study  and  put  the  lamp 
down  on  the  table.  "Something  is  the  matter?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  it,  Samuel?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,  sir." 

"Does  your  father  know?" 

"  My  father  knows.  ...  I  will  tell  you  this,  Dr.  Laven 
dar — that  so  help  me  God,  I  will  never  speak  to  my 
father  again." 

The  young  man  lifted  one  hand ;  his  face  was  dread 
ful  to  look  upon.  Then  trying  to  speak  in  a  natural 
voice  he  asked  if  he  might  stay  at  the  Rectory  for  that 
night. 

Dr.  Lavendar  took  two  turns  about  his  study,  then 
he  said,  "Of  course  you  may,  Samuel,  but  I  shall  feel 
it  my  duty  to  acquaint  your  father  with  the  fact." 

"Just  as  you  please,  sir." 

"And  Sam — I  hope  the  night  will  bring  wisdom." 

Sam  was  silent. 

"I  shall  see  your  father  in  the  morning  and  try  to 
clear  this  thing  up." 

"Just  as  you  please,  sir.  I  would  like  to  go  to  my 
room  now  if  you  have  no  objection." 

And  that  was  all  Dr.  Lavendar  got  out  of  the  son. 

He  lighted  a  lamp  and  silently  preceded  his  guest 
up-stairs;  then  he  went  back  to  his  study  and  wrote 
a  line  to  the  father.  He  sent  it  out  to  the  Wright 
house  and  sat  up  until  midnight  waiting  for  an  an 
swer.  None  came.  "Well, "said  Dr.  Lavendar  at  last 
trudging  up  to  bed,  "the  boy  comes  by  his  obstinacy 
honestly."  The  next  morning  he  went  early  to  see 

20 


THE    AWAKENING   OF  HELENA    RICHIE 

Mr.  Benjamin  Wright.  But  as  far  as  any  straighten 
ing  out  of  the  trouble  went  or  any  enlightenment  as 
to  its  cause,  he  might  as  well  have  stayed  at  home. 

"Sam  send  you?" 

"No;  I  came  to  see  what  I  could  do  for  you  both. 
I  take  it  for  granted  that  Sam  is  at  fault  in  some  way  ? 
But  he  is  a  good  boy,  so  I  am  sure  he  can  be  made  to 
see  his  error." 

"Did  he  tell  you  what  was  the  trouble?" 

"No;  will  you?" 

"Let  him  come  back  and  behave  himself!"  the  older 
man  said. 

Dr.  Lavendar  thrust  out  his  lower  lip  with  a  thought 
ful  frown.  "It  would  expedite  things,  Wright,  if  you 
could  tell  me  a  little  about  the  affair?" 

Mr.  Wright  hesitated.  He  thrust  his  hand  down 
into  a  blue  ginger- jar  for  a  piece  of  dried  orange-skin 
and  bit  at  it  as  if  to  steady  his  lips.  "Sam  can  tell 
you  if  he  wants  to.  He  has  perhaps  informed  you 
that  he  wishes  to  see  the  world  ?  That  he  thinks  life 
here  very  narrow?  No?  Well,  I  sha'n't  quote  him. 
All  I  shall  say,  is  that  I  am  doing  my  duty  to  him. 
I've  always  done  my  duty  to  him.  If  he  sees  fit  to  set 
up  his  own  Ebenezer,  and  say  he  won't  speak  to  me — 
I  suppose  he  conveyed  that  filial  sentiment  to  you? — 
he  can  do  so.  When  he  gets  hungry  he  can  speak. 
That's  what  other  puppies  do  when  they  are  hungry." 

And  that  was  all  Dr.  Lavendar  got  out  of  the 
father.  .  .  . 

This  was  thirty-two  years  ago.  Sam  Wright  may 
have  been  hungry,  but  he  never  spoke.  Instead,  he 
worked.  Old  Chester  seethed  with  curiosity  for  a 
while — to  see  Benjamin  Wright  pass  his  son  with  a 
contemptuous  stare,  to  see  Sam  pass  his  father  with- 

21 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

out  a  glance  was  very  exciting.  But  excitement  ebbs 
in  thirty-two  years.  For  one  thing,  old  Mr.  Wright 
came  less  often  into  town — because  he  could  not  bear 
to  meet  his  son,  people  said  ;  and  Samuel  never  took 
the  hill  road  out  of  Old  Chester  for  a  corresponding 
reason.  Furthermore,  it  was  hard  to  connect  Samuel 
with  anything  so  irrational  as  a  quarrel,  for  every  year 
he  grew  in  solemn  common  sense.  Benjamin  Wright's 
growth  was  all  in  the  way  of  temper;  at  least  so  his 
boy  Simmons,  a  freckled  mulatto  of  sixty  years,  in 
formed  Old  Chester. 

"He  'ain't  got  no  human  feelin's,  'cept  for  them 
there  canaries,"  Simmons  used  to  say  in  an  aggrieved 
voice;  "he'll  stand  and  look  at  'em  and  chirp  to  'em 
by  the  hour — an'  'en  he'll  turn  round  and  swear  at 
you  'nough  to  take  your  leg  off,"  Simmons  said,  bit 
terly.  Simmons  did  his  best  for  the  canaries  which 
he  detested,  cleaning  out  the  cages  and  scraping  the 
perches  and  seeing  that  the  seed-trays  and  bath-tubs 
were  always  full;  he  did  his  best  conscientiously,  and 
it  was  hard  to  be  "swore  at  when  you  'ain't  done 
nothin'."  Perhaps  Benjamin  Wright  had  some  "hu 
man  feelings"  for  his  grandson,  Sam;  but  certainly 
Simmons's  opinion  was  justified  by  his  treatment  of 
his  granddaughters.  When  by  their  father's  orders  the 
little  girls  came  up  to  the  lonely  house  on  the  hill,  the 
old  man  used  to  pitch  small  coins  to  them  and  tell 
them  to  go  and  look  at' the  canaries, — "and  then  clear 
out.  Simmons,  give  'em  some  cake  or  something! 
Good-by.  Good-by.  Clear  out."  Long  before  he 
had  settled  into  such  dreary  living,  the  son  with  whom 
he  had  quarrelled  had  made  a  life  of  his  own.  His 
slimness  and  gayety  had  disappeared  as  well  as  his 
dreaminess  and  versifying  instincts.  "Poetry?"  he 

22 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

had  been  heard  to  say,  "why,  there  isn't  a  poem  that 
was  ever  written  that  I'd  take  five  minutes  out  of  my 
business  to  read!"  It  seemed  as  if  the  quarrel  had 
wrenched  him  from  the  grooves,  physical  and  spiritual, 
in  which  Nature  had  meant  him  to  run  and  started 
him  on  lines  of  hard  common  sense.  He  was  intensely 
positive;  heavy  and  pompous  and  painfully  literal; 
inclined  to  lay  down  the  law  to  everybody ;  richer  than 
most  of  us  in  Old  Chester,  and  full  of  solemn  respon 
sibilities  as  burgess  and  senior  warden  and  banker. 
His  air  of  aggressive  integrity  used  to  make  the  hon- 
estest  of  us  feel  as  if  we  had  been  picking  pockets! 
Yes;  a  good  man,  as  Old  Chester  said. 

Years  ago  Dr.  Lavendar  had  given  up  trying  to 
reconcile  the  two  Wrights;  years  ago  Old  Chester's 
speculations  languished  and  died  out.  Once  in  a 
while  some  one  remembered  the  quarrel  and  said, 
"What  in  the  world  could  it  have  been  about ?"  And 
once  in  a  while  Samuel's  own  children  asked  awkward 
questions.  "Mother,  what  was  father's  row  with 
grandfather?"  And  Mrs.  Wright's  answer  was  as 
direct  as  the  question.  "I  don't  know.  He  never 
told  me." 

When  this  reply  was  made  to  young  Sam  he  dropped 
the  subject.  He  had  but  faint  interest  in  his  father, 
and  his  grandfather  with  whom  he  took  tea  every 
Sunday  night  was  too  important  a  person  to  connect 
with  so  trivial  an  affair  as  a  quarrel. 

This  matter  of  offspring  is  certainly  very  curious. 
Why  should  the  solid  Samuel  Wright  and  his  foolish, 
obedient  Eliza  have  brought  into  the  world  a  being 
of  mist  and  fire?  A  beautiful  youth,  who  laughed  or 
wept  or  sung  aloud,  indifferent  to  all  about  him! 
Sometimes  Sam  senior  used  to  look  at  his  son  and 

23 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

shake  his  head  in  bewildered  astonishment;  but  often 
he  was  angry,  and  oftener  still — though  this  he  never 
admitted — hurt.  The  boy,  always  impersonally  ami 
able,  never  thought  it  worth  while  to  explain  himself; 
partly  because  he  was  not  interested  in  his  father's 
opinion  of  his  conduct,  and  partly  because  he  knew 
he  could  not  make  himself  understood.  i 

"  But  who,  my  dear  Eliza,"  Samuel  would  say  to  his  ; 
wife — "who  could  understand  such  a  boy?     Look  at 
this  last  performance  of  his!     Purchasing  pictures  of 
actors!    Where  does  he  get  such  low  tastes? — unless 
some  of  your  family  were  interested  in  such  things?" 

"Oh  no,  Samuel;  no,  indeed,"  Mrs.  Wright  pro 
tested  nervously. 

"And  to  use  money  not  his  own!  Do  you  know 
what  that  is  called,  my  dear  Eliza?  It  is  called — " 

"Oh  don't,  Samuel,"  whimpered  the  poor  mother. 

"And  to  think  how  carefully  I  have  trained  him! 
And  all  I  have  done  for  him.  I  let  him  buy  that  skiff 
he  said  he  wanted.  Absolute  waste  of  money!  Our 
old  rowboat  is  good  enough  for  the  girls,  so  why  isn't 
it  good  enough  for  him  ?  And  I  never  laid  a  hand  on 
him  in  punishment  either;  not  many  fathers  can  say 
that." 

As  for  the  bank  supplies  young  Sam  had  explained 
to  his  mother  that  they  had  been  ordered  and  charged, 
so  what  was  the  matter?  And  Mrs.  Wright  kneading 
her  tear -soaked  handkerchief  into  a  ball,  cried  some 
more  and  said: 

"Oh,  Sam  dear,  why  do  you  act  so?" 

Sam  looked  at  her  attentively,  wondering  why  her 
little  nose  always  reddened  when  she  cried.  But  he 
waited  patiently,  until  she  finished  her  rambling  re 
proaches.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  tell  Mrs. 

24 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Richie  all  about  this  matter  of  the  prints.     "  She  will   ' 
understand,"  he  thought. 

Sam's  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Richie  had  begun 
when  she  was  getting  settled  in  her  new  house.  Sam 
senior,  having  no  desire  to  climb  the  hill  road,  sent 
his  various  communications  to  his  tenant  by  his  son, 
and  afterwards  Sam  junior  had  communications  of  his 
own  to  make.  He  fell  into  the  habit  of  stopping  there 
on  Sunday  afternoons,  quite  oblivious  of  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Richie  did  not  display  any  pleasure  at  seeing  him. 
After  one  of  these  calls  he  was  apt  to  be  late  in  reach 
ing  "The  Top,"  as  his  grandfather's  place  was  called, 
and  old  Benjamin  Wright,  in  his  brown  wig  and  moth- 
eaten  beaver  hat,  would  glare  at  him  with  melancholy 
dark  eyes. 

"  Gad-a-mercy,  what  do  you  mean, — getting  here 
at  six-five!  I  have  my  tea  at  six,  sir;  at  six  sharp. 
Either  get  here  on  time  or  stay  away.  I  don't  care 
which.  Do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  young  Sam  would  murmur. 

"Where  have  you  been?  Mooning  after  that  fe 
male  at  the  Stuffed  Animal  House?" 

"I  had  to  leave  a  message,  sir,  about  the  lease." 

"  How  long  does  it  take  to  leave  a  message  about  a 
lease?" 

"She  was  not  down-stairs  and  I  had  to  wait — " 

"7  had  to  wait!  That's  more  to  the  point.  There, 
don't  talk  about  it.  You  drive  me  crazy  with  your 
chatter." 

Then  they  would  sit  down  to  supper  in  a  black 
silence  only  broken  by  an  occasional  twitter  from  one 
of  the  many  cages  that  hung  about  the  room.  But 
afterwards  young  Sam  had  his  reward;  the  library,  a 
toby,  long  before  he  was  old  enough  to  smoke,  and  his 

25 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

grandfather  reading  aloud  in  a  wonderful  voice,  deep, 
sonorous,  flexible — Shakespeare,  Massinger,  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher.  To  be  sure,  there  was  nothing  per 
sonal  in  such  reading — it  was  not  done  to  give  pleas 
ure  to  young  Sam.  Every  night  the  old  man  rum 
bled  out  the  stately  lines,  sitting  by  himself  in  this 
gloomy  room  walled  to  the  ceiling  with  books,  and 
warmed  by  a  soft  -  coal  fire  that  snapped  and  bub 
bled  behind  the  iron  bars  of  the  grate.  Sometimes 
he  would  burst  into  angry  ecstasy  at  the  beauty  of 
what  he  read  "  There!  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"Oh,  it's  splendid!" 

"Hah!  Much  you  know  about  it!  There  is  about 
as  much  poetry  in  your  family  as  there  is  in  that  coal 
scuttle." 

It  was  when  he  was  eighteen  that  once  the  old  man 
let  his  grandson  read  The  Tempest  with  him.  It  was 
a  tremendous  evening  to  Sam.  In  the  first  place,  his 
grandfather  swore  at  him  with  a  fury  that  really  at 
tracted  his  attention.  But  that  night  the  joy  of  the 
drama  suddenly  possessed  him.  The  deed  was  done; 
the  dreaming  youth  awoke  to  the  passion  of  art.  As 
Benjamin  Wright  gradually  became  aware  of  it  delight 
struggled  with  his  customary  anger  at  anything  un 
expected.  He  longed  to  share  his  pleasure  with  some 
body;  once  he  mentioned  to  Dr.  Lavendar  that  "that 
cub,  Sam,  really  has  something  to  him!"  After  that 
he  took  the  boy's  training  seriously  in  hand,  and  his 
artless  pride  concealed  itself  in  a  severity  that  knew 
no  bounds  of  words.  When  Sam  confessed  his  wish 
to  write  a  drama  in  blank  verse,  his  grandfather  swore 
at  him  eagerly  and  demanded  every  detail  of  what  he 
call  3d  the  "fool  plot  of  the  thing." 

"What  does  that  female  at  the  Stuffed  Animal 

26 


THE   AWAKENING    OF  HELENA   RICHIE 

House  say  to  the  idea  of  your  writing  a  drama?"  he 
asked  contemptuously. 

"She  says  I  may  read  it  to  her." 

"Knows  as  much  about  dramatic  poetry  as  you  do 
I  suppose?  When  you  finish  the  first  act  bring  it  to 
me.  I'll  tell  you  how  bad  it  is." 

His  eager  scoffing  betrayed  him,  and  every  Sunday 
night,  in  spite  of  slaughtering  criticism  the  boy  took 
courage  to  talk  of  his  poem.  He  had  no  criticism  from 
Mrs.  Richie. 

When  he  first  began  to  call  at  the  Stuffed  Animal 
House  she  had  been  coldly  impatient,  then  uneasy, 
then  snubbing.  But  nothing  can  be  so  obtuse  as  a 
boy;  it  never  occurs  to  him  that  he  is  not  wanted. 
Sam  continued  to  call  and  to  tell  her  of  his  play  and 
to  look  at  her  with  beautiful,  tragic  eyes,  that  by  and 
by  openly  adored.  Inevitably  the  coldness  to  which 
he  was  so  calmly  impervious  wore  off;  a  boy's  innocent 
devotion  must  touch  any  woman  no  matter  how  self- 
absorbed  she  may  be.  Mrs.  Richie  began  to  be  glad 
to  see  him.  As  for  his  drama,  it  was  beautiful,  she 
said. 

"No,"  Sam  told  her,  "it  isn't—yet.  You  don't 
know.  But  I  like  to  read  it  to  you,  even  if  you  don't." 
His  candor  made  her  laugh,  and  before  she  knew  it, 
in  spite  of  the  difference  in  their  years  they  were  friends. 
As  William  King  said,  she  was  lonely,  and  Sam's  de 
votion  was  at  least  an  interest.  Besides,  she  really 
liked  the  boy;  he  amused  her,  and  her  empty  days 
were  so  devoid  of  amusement!  "I  can't  read  novels 
all  the  time,"  she  complained.  In  this  very  bread- 
and-butter  sort  of  interest  she  had  no  thought  of  pos 
sible  consequences  to  Sam.  A  certain  pleasant  in 
dolence  of  mind  made  it  easy  not  to  think  of  con^e- 

*  27 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

quences  at  all.  But  he  had  begun  to  love  her — with 
that  first  passion  of  youth  so  divinely  tender  and 
ridiculous!  After  a  while  he  talked  less  of  his  play 
and  more  of  himself.  He  told  her  of  his  difficulties 
at  home,  how  he  hated  the  bank,  and  how  stupid  the 
girls  were. 

"  Lydia  is  the  nicest,  but  she  has  no  more  imagina 
tion  than  a  turnip.  They  are  very  uninteresting — 
my  family,"  he  said  meditatively.  "I  don't  like  any 
of  them — except  mother.  Mother  hasn't  any  sense, 
but  she's  good,"  Sam  ended  earnestly. 

"Oh,  but  you  mustn't  say  things  like  that!" 

"Why  not?  They're  true,"  he  said  with  a  sur 
prised  look. 

"Well,  but  we  don't  always  tell  the  truth  right 
out,"  she  reminded  him. 

"  I  do,"  said  Sam,  and  then  explained  that  he  didn't 
include  his  grandfather  in  his  generalization.  "Grand 
father's  bully;  you  ought  to  hear  him  swear!" 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to!"  she  said  horrified. 

"I  told  him  that  I  burned  the  prints  up,"  Sam  went 
on.  "And  he  said,  'good  riddance  to  bad  rubbish.' 
That  was  just  like  grandfather!  Of  course  he  did  say 
that  I  was  a  d — I  mean,  a  fool,  to  buy  them  in  the 
first  place;  and  I  knew  I  was.  But  having  bought 
them,  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  burn  them.  But 
father!—" 

Mrs.  Richie's  eyes  crinkled  with  mischievous  gayety. 
"Poor  Mr.  Wright!" 

Sam  dropped  his  clasped  hands  between  his  knees. 
"It's  queer  how  I  always  do  the  wrong  thing.  Though 
it  never  seems  wrong  to  me.  You  know  father  would 
not  let  me  go  to  college  for  fear  I'd  go  to  the  devil?" 
he  laughed  joyously.  "But  I  might  just  as  well,  for 

28 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

he  thinks  everything  I  do  in  Old  Chester  is  wrong." 
Then  he  sighed.  "Sometimes  I  get  pretty  tired  of 
being  disapproved  of;  —  especially  as  I  never  can  un 
derstand  why  it  is.  The  fact  is  people  are  not  rea 
sonable,"  he  complained.  "I  can  bear  anything  but 
unreasonableness." 

She  nodded.  "I  know.  I  never  could  please  my 
grandmother — she  brought  me  up.  My  mother  and 
father  died  when  I  was  a  baby.  I  think  grandmother 
hated  me;  she  thought  everything  I  did  was  wrong. 
Oh,  I  was  so  miserable!  And  when  I  was  eighteen  I 
got  married — and  that  was  a  mistake." 
Sam  gazed  up  at  her  in  silent  sympathy. 
"  I  mean  my — husband  was  so  much  older  than  I," 
she  said.  Then  with  an  evident  effort  to  change  the 
subject  she  added  that  one  would  think  it  would  be 
simple  enough  to  be  happy;  "all  my  life  I  only  want 
ed  to  be  happy,"  she  said. 

"You're  happy  now,  aren't  you?"  he  asked. 
She  looked  down  at  him — he  was  sitting  on  a  stool 
before  the  fire  near  her  feet — and   laughed  with  a 
catching  of  the  breath.     "Oh,  yes,  yes;  I'm  happy." 
And  Sam  caught  his  breath  too,  for  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

But  instantly  she  veered  away  from  personalities. 
"What  is  that  scar  on  your  wrist?" 

Sam  looked  down  at  his  hands  clasped  about  his 
knees,  and  blushed  faintly.  "Oh,  nothing;  I  was  very 
young  when  that  happened." 

"How  did  it  happen?"  she  asked  absently.  It 
was  often  possible  to  start  Sam  talking  and  then  think 
her  own  thoughts  without  interruption. 

"Why,  I  was  about  twelve,  I  believe,"  Sam  said, 
"and  Miss  Ellen  Bailey — she  used  to  teach  school  here; 

29 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

then  she  got  married  and  went  out  West; — she  gave 
me  a  little  gold  image  of  Pasht;  at  least  I  thought  it 
was  gold.  It  was  one  of  those  things  you  ladies  wear 
on  your  watch-chains,  you  know." 

"Yes?"  she  said  indolently. 

"Well,  I  took  a  tremendous  fancy  to  it.  But  it 
seems  it  wasn't  gold,  it  was  brass,  and  somebody  told 
me  so;  I  think  it  was  Miss  Ellen  herself.  I  was  so 
disappointed,  I  didn't  want  to  live — queer!  I  can  re 
member  now  just  how  I  felt;  a  sort  of  sinking,  here;" 
Sam  laid  his  hand  on  his  breast.  "So  I  decided  to 
throw  myself  out  of  the  window.  I  did;  but  un 
fortunately — " 

"You  threw  yourself  out  of  the  window  1"  she  in 
terrupted  horrified. 

Sam  laughed.  "  Oh,  well,  I  wasn't  successful;  I  con 
tinued  to  live.  Unfortunately  my  trousers  caught  on 
the  grape  trellis  under  the  window,  and  there  I  hung! 
It  must  have  been  pretty  funny  —  though  I  didn't 
think  so  at  the  time.  First  place,  I  tore  my  wrist  on 
a  nail — that's  the  scar;  and  then  father  caught  me  and 
sent  me  to  bed  for  being  a  fool;  so  I  didn't  gain  any 
thing."  His  lip  drooped.  His  feeling  for  his  father 
was  a  candid  mixture  of  amusement  and  contempt. 

"  But  do  you  always  act  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  ?" 
she  said  astonished. 

Sam  laughed  and  said  he  supposed  so.  "I  am  a 
good  deal  of  a  fool,"  he  added  simply. 

"Well,"  she  said  sighing,  "it's  dangerous  to  be 
like  that.  I  know,  because  I — I  am  a  good  deal  of  a 
fool  myself."  Then  again,  abruptly,  she  changed  the 
subject.  "What  do  you  think?  I'm  going  to  have 
some  company  I" 

frowned.     "Your  brother f>! 

3? 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"No,  oh  no;  not — Mr.  Pryor."  Then  she  told  him 
that  Dr.  Lavendar  had  asked  her  if  she  would  look 
after  a  little  boy  for  him  for  a  few  weeks. 

Sam  was  not  responsive.  Little  boys  were  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  he  said. 

"Come  now;  how  long  since — " 

Sam's  limpid  deer's-eyes  reproached  her  silently. 

"How  shall  I  amuse  him?"  she  said. 

And  Sam  eager  to  serve  her  promised  to  find  a  pair 
of  rabbits  for  the  child.  "I  used  to  like  rabbits  when 
I  was  young,"  he  explained. 

At  last,  after  his  hostess  had  swallowed  many  yawns, 
Sam  reluctantly  said  good  night.  He  went  bounding 
down  the  hill  in  the  darkness,  across  the  fields,  through 
the  woods.  In  the  starlight,  the  great  world  lay  dim 
and  lovely  before  him — it  belonged  to  him!  He  felt 
the  joyous  buffet  of  the  night  wind  upon  his  face,  the 
brush  of  boughs  against  his  shoulder,  the  scent  of  young 
ferns,  and  the  give  of  the  spongy  earth  under  his  feet ;  he 
sprang  in  long  leaps  over  the  grass,  the  tears  were  wet 
upon  his  fresh  cheeks,  he  sang  aloud.  But  he  did  not 
know  what  he  sang;  in  his  young  breast,  Love,  like 
some  warm  living  thing,  stirred,  and  lifted  glorious 
wings  and  drove  his  voice  throbbing  and  exultant  to 
his  lips!  As  he  came  down  Main  Street,  the  church 
clock  struck  eleven.  But  it  might  have  struck  twelve 
and  he  would  not  have  been  disturbed. 

Standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  Wright  house  in 
thunderous  silence  the  senior  warden,  lamp  in  hand 
awaited  his  son.  As  Sam  entered,  the  silence  broke 
into  a  flash  of  crackling  and  scathing  contempt. 

"It  does  not  occur  to  you,  sir,  I  suppose,  that  a 
lady  may  find  your  society  tiresome?  It  is  after 
eleven!" 


THE  AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

Sam  smiling  to  himself  hung  up  his  hat.  He  was 
reflecting  that  he  must  see  about  those  rabbits  at  once. 

"You  will  understand,  sir,  if  you  please,  that  while 
you  do  me  the  honor  to  live  under  my  roof  you  will 
return  to  it  at  night  at  a  respectable  hour.  I  will 
not  sit  up  for  you  in  this  way.  You  will  be  in  at  ten 
o'clock.  Do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  sir/'  said  Sam;  and  added  with  sudden  awak 
ening  of  interest,  "if  you  would  let  me  have  a  key, 
father,  I—" 

"I  will  not  let  you  have  a  key!  I  will  have  no  boy 
entering  my  house  at  midnight  with  a  key  I  Do  you 
understand  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  Sam  murmured  falling  back  into  his 
own  thoughts. 

Mr.  Wright,  still  talking,  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  so  that  his  son  could  not  pass  him.  Sam 
yawned,  then  noticed  how  in  oratorical  denunciation 
his  father's  long  upper  lip  curved  like  the  beak  of  a 
bird  of  prey ;  behind  his  hand  he  tried  to  arch  his  own 
lip  in  the  same  manner.  He  really  did  not  hear  what 
was  said  to  him;  he  only  sighed  with  relief  when  it 
was  over  and  he  was  allowed  to  go  up-stairs  and  tumble 
sleepily  into  bed. 

As  for  his  long-suffering  hostess,  when  she  was  alone 
Helena  Richie  rubbed  her  eyes  and  began  to  wake  up. 
"That  boy  never  knows  when  to  go!"  she  said  to  her 
self  with  amused  impatience.  Then  her  mind  turned 
to  her  own  affairs.  This  little  boy,  David  Allison, 
would  be  in  Old  Chester  on  Saturday;  he  was  to  stay 
with  Dr.  Lavendar  for  a  while,  and  then  come  to  her 
for  a  week  or  two.  But  she  was  beginning  to  regret 
the  invitation  she  had  sent  through  Dr.  King.  It 
would  be  pleasant  to  have  the  little  fellow,  but — 

32 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  can't  keep  him,  so  why  should  I  take  him  even 
for  a  week?  I  might  get  fond  of  him!  I'm  afraid  it's 
a  mistake.  I  wonder  what  Lloyd  would  think?  I 
don't  believe  he  really  loves  children.  And  yet — he 
cared  when  the  baby  died." 

She  pulled  a  low  chair  up  to  the  hearth  and  sat 
down,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  fingers  ruffling  the 
soft  locks  about  her  forehead.  "Oh,  my  baby!  my 
little,  little  baby!"  she  said  in  a  broken  whisper. 
The  old  passion  of  misery  swept  over  her;  she  shrank 
lower  in  her  chair,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  her 
fingers  pressed  against  her  eyes.  It  was  thirteen  years 
ago,  and  yet  even  now  in  these  placid  days  in  Old 
Chester,  to  think  of  that  time  brought  the  breathless 
smother  of  agony  back  again — the  dying  child,  the 
foolish  brute  who  had  done  him  to  death.  ...  If  the 
baby  had  lived  he  would  be  nearly  fourteen  years  old 
now;  a  big  boy!  She  wondered  whether  his  hair 
would  still  have  been  curly?  She  knew  in  her  heart 
that  she  never  could  have  had  the  courage  to  cut 
those  soft  curls  off — and  yet,  boys  hated  curls,  she 
thought;  and  smiled  proudly.  He  would  have  been 
so  manly!  If  he  had  lived,  how  different  everything 
would  have  been,  how  incredibly  different!  For  of 
course,  if  he  had  lived  she  would  have  been  happy  in 
spite  of  Frederick.  And  happiness  was  all  she  wanted. 

She  brushed  the  tears  from  her  flushed  cheeks,  and 
propping  her  chin  in  her  hands  stared  into  the  fire, 
thinking — thinking.  .  .  .  Her  childhood  had  been  passed 
with  her  father's  mother,  a  silent  woman  who  with 
bitter  expectation  of  success  had  set  herself  to  dis 
cover  in  Helena  traits  of  the  poor,  dead,  foolish  wife 
who  had  broken  her  son's  heart.  "Grandmamma 
hated  me,"  Helena  Richie  reflected.  "She  begrudged 

33 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

me  the  least  little  bit  of  pleasure."  Yet  her  feeling 
towards  the  hard  old  woman  now  was  not  resentment ; 
it  was  only  wonder.  "Why  didn't  she  like  me  to  be 
happy?"  she  thought.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that 
her  grandmother  who  had  guarded  and  distrusted  her 
had  also  loved  her.  "Of  course  I  never  loved  her," 
she  reminded  herself,  "but  I  wouldn't  have  wanted 
her  to  be  unhappy.  She  wanted  me  to  be  wretched. 
Curious!"  Yet  she  realized  that  at  that  time  she  had 
not  desired  love;  she  had  only  desired  happiness. 
Looking  back,  she  pondered  on  her  astounding  im 
maturity;  what  a  child  she  had  been  to  imagine  that 
merely  to  get  away  from  that  gray  life  with  her  grand 
mother  would  be  happiness,  and  so  had  married  Fred 
erick.  Frederick.  .  .  .  She  was  eighteen,  and  so  pretty. 
She  smiled  remembering  how  pretty  she  was.  And 
Frederick  had  made  such  promises!  She  was  to  have 
every  kind  of  happiness.  Of  course  she  had  married 
him.  Thinking  of  it  now,  she  did  not  in  the  least 
blame  herself.  If  the  dungeon  doors  open  and  the 
prisoner  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  green  world  of  sun 
shine,  what  happens?  Of  course  she  had  married 
Frederick!  As  for  love,  she  never  thought  of  it;  it  did 
not  enter  into  the  bargain — at  least  on  her  part.  She 
married  him  because  he  wanted  her  to,  and  because 
he  would  make  her  happy.  And,  oh,  how  glad  her 
grandmother  had  been!  At  the  memory  of  that  pas 
sionate  satisfaction,  Helena  clasped  her  hands  over  the 
two  brown  braids  that  folded  like  a  chaplet  around 
her  head  and  laughed  aloud,  the  tears  still  glittering 
on  her  lashes.  Her  prayers,  her  grandmother  said, 
had  been  answered ;  the  girl  was  safe — an  honest  wife ! 
"Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant — "  the  old  woman 
murmured,  with  dreadful  gratitude  in  her  voice. 

34 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Thinking  of  that  gratitude,  the  tears  dried  upon 
Helena's  cheeks,  hot  with  the  firelight  and  with  her 
thoughts.  "  Suppose  she  had  lived  just  a  little  longer  ? 
• — just  three  years  longer  ?  Where  would  her  gratitude 
have  been  then?"  Helena's  face  overflowed  with  sud 
den  gay  malice,  but  below  the  malice  was  weariness. 
"You  are  happy  now — aren't  you?"  Sam  Wright  had 
said.  .  .  .  Why,  yes,  certainly.  Frederick  had  "re 
pented,"  as  Dr.  King  expressed  it;  she  had  seen  to 
his  "repentance"!  That  in  itself  was  something  to 
have  lived  for — a  searing  flame  of  happiness.  Enough 
one  might  think  to  satisfy  her — if  she  could  only  have 
forgotten  the  baby.  At  first  she  had  believed  that  she 
could  forget  him.  Lloyd  had  told  her  she  would. 
How  young  she  had  been  at  twenty -one  to  think  that 
any  one  could  forget!  She  smiled  dryly  at  her  child 
ish  hope  and  at  Lloyd's  ignorance;  but  his  tenderness 
had  been  so  passionately  convincing, — and  how  good 
he  had  been  about  the  baby!  He  had  let  her  talk  of 
him  all  she  wanted  to.  Of  course,  after  a  while  he  got 
a  little  tired  of  the  subject,  and  naturally.  It  was 
Frederick's  baby!  And  Lloyd  hated  Frederick  as 
much  as  she  did.  How  they  used  to  talk  about  him 
in  those  first  days  of  his  "repentance"!  .  .  .  "Have 
you  heard  anything  ?"  "  Yes ;  running  down-hill  every 
day."  "Is  there  any  news?"  "Yes,  he'll  drink  him 
self  into  his  grave  in  six  months."  Ah,  that  was  hap 
piness  indeed!— "his  grave,  in  six  months!"  .  .  .  She 
flung  herself  back  in  her  chair,  her  hands  dropping 
listlessly  into  her  lap.  "  Oh — my  little,  dead  baby!" 

It  was  nearly  midnight;  the  fire  had  burned  quite 
out;  the  room  had  fallen  into  shadows.  Oh,  yes,  as 
she  told  Sam  Wright,  she  was  happy.  Her  face  fell 
into  lines  of  dull  indifference. 

35 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

She  got  up,  wearily,  rubbing  her  eyes  with  her 
knuckles,  as  a  child  does;  then  suddenly  remembered 
that  she  had  reached  no  conclusion  about  this  little 
boy  Dr.  Lavendar  was  interested  in.  Suppose  she 
should  get  fond  of  him  and  want  to  keep  him — how 
would  Lloyd  feel  about  it  ?  Would  he  think  the  child 
might  take  her  thoughts  from  him?  But  at  that  she 
smiled;  he  could  not  be  so  foolish!  "I'll  write  and 
ask  him,  anyhow.  Of  course,  if  he  objects,  I  wouldn't 
dream  of  it.  I  wonder  what  he  will  think?" 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.  LLOYD  PRYOR  thought  very  deeply  after 
he  read  Mrs.  Richie's  letter.  He  sat  in  his  office 
and  smoked  and  reflected.  And  as  he  reflected  his 
face  brightened.  It  was  a  handsome  face,  with  a 
mouth  that  smiled  easily.  His  heavy-lidded  eyes  be 
hind  astonishingly  thick  and  curling  lashes  were  blue ; 
when  he  lifted  them  the  observer  felt  a  slight  shock,  for 
they  were  curiously  motionless;  generally,  however, 
the  heavy  lids  drooped,  lazily  good-humored.  He  read 
Mrs.  Richie's  letter  and  tapped  the  edge  of  his  desk 
with  strong,  white  fingers. 

"Nothing  could  be  better,"  he  said. 

Then  suddenly  he  decided  that  he  would  go  to  Old 
Chester  and  say  so  in  person.  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
go,  anyhow ;  I  haven't  been  there  for  six  weeks.  Yes ; 
this  child  is  just  what  she  needs." 

And  that  was  how  it  came  about  that  when  he  went 
home  he  pulled  his  daughter  Alice's  pretty  ear  and 
said  he  was  going  away  that  night.  "I  shall  take  the 
ten-o'clock  train,"  he  said. 

His  girl  —  a  pleasant,  flower-like  young  creature — 
scolded  him  affectionately.  "  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
take  so  many  journeys.  Promise  to  be  careful;  I 
worry  about  you  when  I'm  not  with  you  to  take  care 
of  you,"  she  said,  in  her  sweet,  anxious  young  voice. 
Her  father,  smiling,  promised  prudence,  and  for  the 

37 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

mere  joy  of  watching  her  let  her  pack  his  bag,  lectur 
ing  him  as  she  did  so  about  his  health.  "Now  that 
you  have  undertaken  all  this  extra  business  of  the 
Pryor-Barr  people,  you  owe  it  to  your  stockholders  to 
be  careful  of  your  health,"  she  told  him,  refusing  to 
notice  his  smile  when  he  solemnly  agreed  with  her. 

"What  would  happen  to  the  Company  if  anything 
happened  to  you?"  she  insisted,  rubbing  her  soft  cheek 
against  his. 

"Ruin,  of  course." 

But  she  would  not  laugh.  "And  what  would  hap 
pen  to  me  ?" 

"Ah,  well,  that's  a  different  matter,"  he  admitted, 
and  kissed  her  and  bade  her  be  careful.  "  What  would 
happen  to  me  if  anything  happened  to  you  ?"  he  teased. 

She  hung  about  him,  brooding  over  him  like  a  little 
mother  dove  with  a  hundred  questions.  "Are  you 
going  anywhere  except  to  Mercer?" 

"Well,"  yes;  possibly." 

"Where?" 

"Oh,  to  a  place  called  Old  Chester." 

"Who  are  you  going  to  see  there?" 

"Nobody  you  know,  Gas-bag!  I  never  heard  of 
such  curiosity!" 

"Ah,  but  I  like  to  think  about  you  when  you  are 
away,  and  know  just  where  you  are  and  what  you  are 
doing  every  minute  of  the  time." 

At  which  he  laughed  and  kissed  her,  and  was  off  to 
take  the  night  train  for  Mercer,  which  made  it  possible 
for  him  to  catch  the  morning  stage  for  Old  Chester. 

There  was  one  other  passenger  in  the  stage — a  little 
boy  with  a  soft  thatch  of  straight,  yellow  hair  that  had 
been  chopped  short  around  the  bowl  of  some  domestic 
barber.  He  sat  on  the  opposite  seat  and  held  a  bun- 

38 


THE    AWAKENING     OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

die  in  his  arms,  peering  out  over  the  top  of  it  with 
serious  blue  eyes. 

"Well,  young  man,  where  are  you  bound?"  in 
quired  Mr.  Pry  or.  When  the  child  said  "  Old  Chester," 
Lloyd  Pryor  tossed  a  quarter  out  of  the  window  to  a 
hostler  and  bade  him  go  into  the  stage-house  and  buy 
an  apple.  "Here,  youngster,"  he  said,  when  the  man 
handed  it  up  to  him,  "take  that. — Keep  the  change, 
my  man." 

When  it  did  not  involve  any  personal  inconvenience, 
Mr.  Lloyd  Pryor  had  a  quick  and  cordial  kindliness 
which  most  people  found  very  attractive.  The  child, 
however,  did  not  seem  much  impressed;  he  took  the 
apple  gravely,  and  said,  "Thank  you,  sir;"  but  he 
was  not  effusive.  He  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
hugged  his  bundle.  Half-way  to  Old  Chester  he  began 
to  nibble  the  apple,  biting  it  very  slowly,  so  that  he 
might  not  make  a  noise,  and  thrusting  it  back  into 
his  pocket  after  each  bite  with  an  apprehensive  glance 
at  the  gentleman  in  the  corner.  When  he  had  finished 
it  and  swallowed  the  core,  he  said,  suddenly: 

"Mister,  have  you  any  little  boys  and  girls?" 

His  companion,  who  had  quite  forgotten  him,  looked 
over  the  top  of  his  newspaper  with  a  start.  "What? 
What  did  you  say  ?  Oh — boys  and  girls  ?  Yes ;  I  have 
a  girl."  He  smiled  as  he  spoke. 

"Is  she  as  big  as  me?" 

Lloyd  Pryor  put  down  his  paper  and  twitched  his 
glasses  off.  "About  twice  as  big  I  should  think,"  he 
said  kindly. 

"Twice  as  big!     And  twice  as  old?" 

"  How  old  are  you  ?" 

"I'm  seven,  going  on  eight." 

f<1VVell,  then,  let's  see.  Alice  is— she  is  twice  an4 
39 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

five  years  more  as  old.  What  do  you  make  of 
that?" 

The  child  began  to  count  on  his  fingers,  and,  after 
looking  at  him  a  minute  or  two  with  some  amusement, 
Mr.  Pryor  returned  to  his  paper.  After  a  while  the 
boy  said,  suddenly,  "In  the  flood  the  ducks  couldn't 
be  drowned,  could  they?" 

But  Lloyd  Pryor  had  become  interested  in  what  he 
was  reading.  "You  talk  too  much,  young  man,"  he 
said  coldly,  and  there  was  no  further  conversation. 
The  old  stage  jogged  along  in  the  uncertain  sunshine; 
sometimes  Mr.  Pryor  smoked,  once  he  took  a  nap. 
While  he  slept  the  little  boy  looked  at  him  furtively, 
but  by  and  by  he  turned  to  the  window,  absorbed  in 
his  own  affairs. 

As  the  stage  pulled  into  Old  Chester,  Mr.  Pryof 
roused  himself.  "  Well,  my  boy,  here  we  are,"  he  said. 

The  child  quivered  and  his  hands  tightened  on  his 
bundle,  but  he  said  nothing.  When  they  drew  up  at 
the  tavern,  there  was  Danny  and  Goliath  and  Dr. 
Lavendar. 

"Mary  gave  me  some  gingerbread  for  him,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  was  saying  to  Van  Horn.  "  I've  got  it  tied 
up  in  my  handkerchief.  Why,"  he  interrupted  him 
self,  screwing  up  his  eyes  and  peering  into  the  dusk 
of  the  old  coach — "why,  I  believe  here's  Mrs.  Richie's 
brother  too!" 

As  the  horses  came  to  a  standstill,  Dr.  Lavendar  was 
in  quite  a  flutter  of  eagerness.  But  when  the  very 
little  boy  clambered  out,  the  old  minister  only  shook 
hands  with  him,  man  fashion,  with  no  particular  dis 
play  of  interest. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  David.  I  am  Dr.  Lavendar." 
Then  he  turned  to  say  "How  do  you  do?"  to  Mr. 

40 


PEERING  OUT  .    .  WITH  SERIOUS,  BLUE  EYES" 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Pryor.  ''Why,  look  here,"  he  added  in  a  cheerful 
after-thought,  "I'm  going  up  your  way;  get  out  and 
come  along  in  my  buggy.  Hey!  Danny!  Stop 
your  snarling.  The  scoundrel's  temper  is  getting  bad 
in  his  old  age.  Those  snails  Jonas  drives  can't  keep 
up  with  my  trotter." 

"But  you  have  one  passenger  already,"  Mr.  Pryor 
protested.  "  I'll  just  go  on  up  in  the  stage,  thank  you." 

"Oh,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said,  "David '5  bundle  is  the 
biggest  part  of  him,  isn't  it,  David?  We'll  leave  it 
with  Van  Horn  and  get  it  as  we  come  back.  Come 
along,  Mr.  Pryor.  There,  David,  tuck  yourself  down 
in  front;  Danny  can  tag  behind."  There  was  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation,  and  then  Mr.  Pryor  did  as  he  was 
bid.  Dr.  Lavendar  climbed  in  himself  and  off  they 
jogged,  while  Jonas  remarked  to  Van  Horn  that  the 
old  gentleman  wasn't  just  the  one  to  talk  about  snails, 
as  he  looked  at  it.  But  Mr.  Pryor,  watching  the  April 
sunshine  chased  over  the  hills  by  warm  cloud  shadows 
and  bursting  into  joy  again  on  the  low  meadows,  re 
flected  that  he  had  done  well  for  himself  in  exchang 
ing  the  dark  cavern  of  the  stage  for  Dr.  Lavendar's 
easy  old  buggy  and  the  open  air.  They  stopped  a 
minute  on  the  bridge  to  look  at  the  creek  swollen  by 
spring  rains ;  it  was  tugging  and  tearing  at  the  branches 
that  dipped  into  it,  and  heaping  up  rocking  lines  of 
yellow  froth  along  the  banks. 

"  In  summer  that's  a  fine  place  to  wade,"  Dr.  Laven 
dar  observed.  David  glanced  up  at  him  and  then 
down  at  the  water  in  silence. 

"Well,  Goliath!  at  this  rate  Jonas  could  beat  us," 
said  Dr.  Lavendar,  and  smacked  a  rein  down  on  the 
shaggy  old  back.  David  looked  around  at  Mr.  Pryor 
with  sudden  interest. 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Is  your  name  Goliath?"  he  asked. 

Lloyd  Pry  or  was  greatly  amused.  "  I  hope  you  haven't 
such  a  thing  as  a  sling  with  you,  David?"  he  said. 

The  little  boy  grew  very  red,  but  made  no  reply. 

"It's  my  horse's  name,"  Dr.  Lavendar  told  him,  so 
kindly  that  David  did  not  hear  the  chuckle  in  his 
voice.  But  the  color  was  hot  in  the  child's  face  for 
many  minutes.  He  had  nothing  to  say  for  the  rest 
of  the  pull  up  the  hill,  except  briefly,  "  'Bye,"  when  Mr. 
Pryor  alighted  at  the  green  gate  of  a  foot-path  that 
led  up  to  the  Stuffed  Animal  House. 

"I'm  very  much  obliged  for  the  lift,  Dr.  Lavendar," 
he  said  in  his  coldly  courteous  voice,  and  turned  quick 
ly  at  an  exclamation  behind  him. 

"Lloyd!" 

"I've  brought  your  brother  home,  Mrs.  Richie," 
said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

Helena  Richie  was  standing  inside  the  hedge,  her 
face  radiant. 

"Oh,  Lloyd!"  she  said  again  breathlessly. 

Mr.  Pry  or  laughed  and  shook  hands  with  her  in 
somewhat  formal  greeting. 

"Do  you  see  my  other  passenger?"  Dr.  Lavendar 
called  out.  "He  came  with  your  brother.  David, 
suppose  you  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Richie?  I  gen 
erally  take  my  hat  off,  David,  when  I  shake  hands 
with  a  lady." 

"I  don't,  sir,"  said  David,  gently,  putting  a  hand 
out  across  the  wheel.     Mrs.  Richie  had  not  noticed 
the  little  boy;  but  when  she  took  his  hand  her  eyes 
lingered  on  his  face,  and  suddenly  she  drew  him  for-  <. 
ward  and  kissed  him. 

David  bore  it  politely,  but  he  looked  over  her  head 
at  Mr.  Pryor.  "Mister,  Alice  is  nineteen." 

42 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"  What  ?"  Mr.  Pry  or  said,  his  heavy -lidded  eyes  open 
ing  with  a  blue  gleam;  then  he  laughed.  "Oh  yes, 
I'd  forgotten  our  sum  in  arithmetic;  yes,  Alice  is 
nineteen." 

"Well,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said,  "g'long,  Goliath!"  and 
the  buggy  went  tugging  on  up  the  hill.  "David,  if 
you'll  look  in  my  pocket  you'll  find  some  ginger 
bread." 

David  thrust  a  hand  down  into  the  capacious  pocket 
and  brought  up  the  gingerbread,  wrapped  in  a  red  silk 
handkerchief.  He  offered  it  silently  to  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"I  don't  believe  I'll  take  any.  Suppose  you  eat  it, 
David?" 

"No,  thank  you,  sir." 

Dr.  Lavendar  shook  his  head  in  a  puzzled  way. 

David  swallowed  nervously.  "Please,  sir,"  he  said, 
"was  that  lady  that  gentleman's  sister?" 

"Yes,"  Dr.  Lavendar  told  him  cheerfully. 

"But  if  she  is  his  sister,"  the  little  boy  reasoned, 
"why  didn't  she  kiss  him?  Janey,  she — she  always 
gave  me  forty  kisses." 

"Just  forty?"  Dr.  Lavendar  inquired,  looking  at 
the  child  over  his  spectacles. 

David  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  he  said,  ear 
nestly:  "I  never  counted.  But  Janey,  she  always  said 
'forty  kisses."1  His  whole  face  quivered.  A  very 
large  tear  gathered,  trembled,  then  rolled  over;  he  held 
his  hands  together  under  the  lap-robe  and  looked  the 
other  way;  then  he  raised  one  shoulder  and  rubbed 
his  cheek  against  it. 

"I  guess  Janey  was  a  pretty  nice  sister,"  Dr.  Laven 
dar  said. 

David's  hands  tightened;  he  looked  up  speechless 
into  the  kind  old  face. 

4  43 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"  David,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  in  a  business-like  way, 
"  would  you  mind  driving  for  me  ?  I  want  to  look  over 
my  note-book." 

"Driving?"  said  David.  "Oh,  my!"  His  cheeks 
were  wet  but  his  eyes  shone.  "  I  don't  mind,  sir.  I'd 
just  as  lieves  as  notl" 


CHAPTER  V 

SO  that's  the  youngster  we're  going  to  adopt,  is 
it?"  Mr.  Pry  or  said;  then  he  looked  at  Helena 
through  his  curling  brown  lashes,  with  open  amuse 
ment.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"It  has  been — so  long,"  she  said  faintly. 

"I've  been  very  busy,"  he  explained. 

She  nodded  and  smiled.  "Anyhow,  you  are  here 
now.  But,  oh,  Maggie  has  a  sore  throat.  I  don't 
know  what  we're  going  to  have  for  dinner.  Oh,  how 
glad  I  am  you're  here!"  Her  face  was  glowing,  but 
her  chin  trembled. 

"Why,  this  is  very  flattering,  I'm  sure;  I  thought 
you  were  so  taken  up  with  your  orphan  that  you 
wouldn't  care  whether  I  came  or  not." 

"You  know  that  isn't  true,"  she  said  gayly,  brush 
ing  her  cheek  against  his  arm;  "but  isn't  he  a  dear 
little  fellow? — though  I'm  sorry  his  hair  isn't  curly." 
Then  her  face  changed.  "What  did  he  mean  about 
Alice  being  nineteen?" 

"  Oh,  Alice  ?  Why,  he  asked  me  in  the  stage  if  I  had 
any  children,  and  I  put  Alice's  age  as  a  sum  in  mental 
arithmetic  for  him.  And  he  asked  me  if  my  name 
was  Goliath." 

But  she  had  forgotten  David.  "Lloyd!  To  think 
you  are  here!" 

"Yes,  I'm  here,  and  a  hamper  is  here,  too.  I  hope 
45 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

the  stage  will  bring  it  up  pretty  soon.  I  don't  believe 
I  could  stand  an  Old  Chester  bill  of  fare.  It's  queer 
about  women;  they  don't  care  what  they  eat.  I  don't 
believe  you've  got  anything  on  hand  but  bread  and 
jam  and  tea  ?" 

"I  care  a  great  deal!"  she  assured  him  laughing, 
and  then  looked  worried.  "Yes,  I  really  have  been 
living  on  bread  and  jam."  She  was  hanging  on  his 
arm,  and  once  she  kissed  his  hand.  "Will  you  go  up 
stairs?  And  I'll  see  what  we  can  do  about  food. 
That  dreadful  Maggie!  She's  sick  in  bed." 

Mr.  Pryor  looked  annoyed.  "Can't  she  get  us 
something  to  eat?  Ask  her,  Nelly;  I  don't  believe  it 
will  hurt  her.  Here;  give  her  that,"  and  he  took  a 
crumpled  bill  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

She  did  not  take  the  money,  but  her  eyes  shone. 
"You  are  the  most  generous  being!"  sJie  said.  Then, 
sobering,  she  thought  of  Maggie's  throat — hesitated 
— and  Maggie  was  lost.  For  when  she  opened  the 
woman's  door,  and  in  her  sweet,  appealing  voice  de 
clared  that  Mr.  Pryor  had  come  unexpectedly,  and 
was  so  hungry — what  should  they  do? — Maggie,  who 
adored  her,  insisted  upon  going  down  to  the  kitchen. 

"Oh,  Maggie,  you  oughtn't  to!  I  oughtn't  to  let 
you.  Maggie,  look  here:  you  will  be  careful,  won't 
you?" 

"Now,  you  go  right  along  back  to  your  brother," 
the  woman  commanded  smiling.  "I'm  goin'  to  get 
into  my  clothes;  'twon't  do  me  a  bit  of  harm." 

And  Helena,  protesting  and  joyous,  fled  to  her  room 
and  to  her  mirror.  She  flung  off  her  cambric  morning 
dress  and  ran  to  hunt  in  her  wardrobe  for  something 
pretty.  With  girlish  hurry  she  pulled  her  hair  down, 
braided  it  afresh,  and  fastened  the  burnished  plats 

46 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

around  her  head  like  a  wreath;  then  she  brushed  the 
soft  locks  in  the  nape  of  her  neck  about  her  finger, 
and  let  them  fall  into  loose  curls.  She  dressed  with 
breathless  haste,  and  when  she  finished,  stood  for  a 
minute,  her  lip  between  her  teeth,  staring  at  herself 
in  the  glass.  And  as  she  stared  her  face  fell;  for  as 
the  color  and  sparkle  faded  a  little,  care  suddenly 
looked  out  of  the  leaf-brown  eyes — care  and  some 
thing  like  fright.  But  instantly  drawing  in  her 
breath,  she  flung  her  head  up  as  one  who  prepares  for 
battle.  When  she  went  down-stairs  and  found  Mr. 
Pryor  waiting  for  her  in  the  parlor,  the  sparkle  had 
all  come  back.  She  had  put  on  a  striped  silk  dress, 
faint  rose  and  green,  made  very  full  in  the  skirt;  her 
flat  lace  collar  was  fastened  by  a  little  old  pin  —  an 
oval  of  pearls  holding  a  strand  of  hair  like  floss-silk. 

"Why,  Nelly,"  her  visitor  said,  "you  look  younger 
every  time  I  see  you." 

She  swept  him  a  great  courtesy,  making  her  dress 
balloon  out  about  her;  then  she  clasped  her  hands  at 
her  throat,  her  chin  resting  on  the  fluff  of  her  white 
undersleeves,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  delighted 
laugh.  "  We  are  not  very  old,  either  of  us ;  I  am  thirty- 
three  and  you  are  only  forty-six — I  call  that  young. 
Oh,  Lloyd,  I  was  so  low-spirited  this  morning;  and 
now— you  are  here!"  She  pirouetted  about  the  room 
in  a  burst  of  gayety. 

As  he  watched  her  through  half -shut  eyes,  the  bored 
good  humor  in  his  face  sharpened  into  something  keen 
er;  he  caught  her  hand  as  she  whirled  past,  drawing 
her  close  to  him  with  a  murmured  caress.  She,  paus 
ing  in  her  joy,  looked  at  him  with  sudden  intentness. 

"Have  you  heard  anything  of — Frederick  ?" 

At  which  he  let  her  go  again  and  answered  curtly: 

47 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"No;  nothing.  Perfectly  well,  the  last  I  heard.  In 
Paris,  and  enjoying  himself  in  his  own  peculiar 
fashion." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  and  turned  her  face  away; 
they  were  both  silent.  Then  she  said,  dully,  that  she 
never  heard  any  news.  "Mr.  Raynor  sends  me  my 
accounts  every  three  months,  but  he  never  says  any 
thing  about — Frederick." 

"  I  suppose  there  isn't  anything  to  say.  Look  here, 
Nelly,  hasn't  that  stage-driver  brought  the  hamper 
yet  ?  When  are  we  going  to  have  something  to  eat  ?" 

"Oh,  pretty  soon,"  she  said  impatiently. 

They  were  standing  at  one  of  the  long  windows  in 
the  parlor;  through  the  tilted  slats  of  the  Venetian 
blinds  the  April  sunshine  fell  in  pale  bars  across  her 
hair  and  dress,  across  the  old  Turkey  carpet  on  the 
floor,  across  the  high  white  wainscoting  and  half-way 
up  the  landscape-papered  walls.  The  room  was  full 
of  cheerful  dignity;  the  heavy,  old-fashioned  furniture 
of  the  Stuffed  Animal  House  was  unchanged,  even  the 
pictures,  hanging  rather  near  the  ceiling,  had  not  been 
removed  —  steel-engravings  of  Landseer's  dogs,  and 
old  and  very  good  colored  prints  of  Audubon's  birds. 
The  mantel-piece  of  black  marble  veined  with  yellow 
was  supported  by  fluted  columns ;  on  it  were  two  blown- 
glass  vases  of  decalcomania  decoration,  then  two  gilt 
lustres  with  prisms,  then  two  hand -screens  of  wool 
work,  and  in  the  middle  an  ormolu  clock — "Iphigenia 
in  Aulis" — under  a  glass  shade.  In  the  recess  at  one 
side  of  the  fireplace  was  a  tall  bookcase  with  closed 
doors,  but  a  claw-footed  sofa  stood  out  from  the  wall 
at  an  angle  that  prevented  any  access  to  the  books. 
"I  can't  read  Stuffed  Animal  books,"  Helena  had  long 
ago  confided  to  Lloyd  Pry  or.  "The  British  Classics, 

48 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

if  you  please!  and  Baxter's  Saint's  Rest,  and  The  Lady 
of  the  Manor."  So  Mr.  Pry  or  made  a  point  of  provid 
ing  her  with  light  literature.  He  pulled  a  paper-cov 
ered  volume  out  of  his  pocket  now,  and  handed  it  to 
her. 

"Not  improving,  Nelly,  I  assure  you;  and  there  is 
a  box  of  candy  in  the  hamper." 

She  thanked  him,  but  put  the  book  down.  "Talk 
to  me,  Lloyd.  Tell  me — everything!  How  are  you? 
How  is  Alice?  Are  you  very  busy  with  politics  and 
things?  Talk  to  me." 

"Well,"  he  said  good  naturedly,  "where  am  I  to 
begin?  Yes;  I'm  very  well.  And  very  busy.  And 
unusually  poor.  Isn't  that  interesting?" 

"Oh,  Lloyd!  Are  you  in  earnest?  Lloyd,  you 
know  I  have  a  lot  of  money,  and  of  course,  if  you 
want  it,  it  is  yours." 

He  was  lounging  lazily  on  the  sofa,  and  drew  her 
down  beside  him,  smiling  at  her  through  his  curling 
lashes.  "It  isn't  as  bad  as  that.  It  is  only  that  I 
have  shouldered  the  debts  of  the  old  Pryor-Barr  Co., 
Limited.  You  know  my  grandfather  organized  it,  and 
my  father  was  president  of  it,  and  I  served  my  'pren- 
ticeship  to  business  in  it." 

"But  I  thought,"  she  said,  puzzled,  "you  went  out 
of  it  long  ago,  before — before — " 

"The  flood?  Yes,  my  dear,  I  did.  I've  only  been 
a  silent  partner  for  years — and  that  in  a  very  small 
way.  But  I  regret  to  say  that  the  young  asses  who 
have  been  running  it  have  got  into  trouble.  And  they 
propose  going  into  bankruptcy,  confound  them!  It 
is  very  annoying,"  Lloyd  Pry  or  ended  calmly. 

"But  I  don't  understand,"  she  said;  "what  have 
you  to  do  with  it  ?" 

49 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Well,  I've  got  to  turn  to  and  pay  their  damned 
debts." 

"Pay  their  debts?  But  why?  Does  the  law  make 
you?" 

"The  law?"  he  said,  looking  at  her  with  cold  eyes. 
"I  suppose  you  mean  statute  law?  No,  my  dear,  it 
doesn't." 

"Then  I  can't  understand  it,"  she  declared  laugh 
ing. 

"It's  nothing  very  abtruse.  I  can't  have  stock 
holders  who  trusted  our  old  firm  cheated  by  a  couple 
of  cousins  of  mine.  I've  assumed  the  liabilities — that's 
all." 

"But  you  don't  have  to,  by  law?"  she  persisted, 
still  bewildered. 

"My  dear  Nelly,  I  don't  do  things  because  of  the 
law,"  he  said  dryly.  "But  never  mind;  it  is  going 
to  give  me  something  to  do.  Tell  me  about  yourself. 
How  are  you?" 

"I'm — pretty  lonely,  Lloyd,"  she  said. 

And  he  answered,  sympathetically,  that  he  had  been 
afraid  of  that.  "You  are  too  much  by  yourself.  Of 
course,  it's  lonely  for  you.  I  am  very  much  pleased 
with  this  idea  of  the  little  boy." 

She  shook  her  head.     "  I  can't  take  him." 

"Why  not?"  he  protested,  and  broke  off.  "Nelly, 
look!  You  are  going  to  have  company." 

He  had  caught  sight  of  some  one  fumbling  with  the 
latch  of  the  green  gate  in  the  hedge.  Helena  opened 
her  lips  in  consternation. 

"Lloyd!  It's  old  Mr.  Benjamin  Wright.  He  lives 
in  that  big  house  with  white  columns  on  the  top  of 
the  hill.  Do  you  suppose  he  has  come  to  call  ?" 

"Tell  your  woman  to  say  you  are  out." 

5° 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

But  she  shook  her  head,  annoyed  and  helpless. 
"Don't  you  see  how  tired  he  is? — poor  old  man!  Of 
course,  he  must  come  in.  Go  and  help  him,  Lloyd." 
She  put  her  hands  on  his  arm.  "Please!"  she  said. 

" No,  thank  you;  I  have  no  desire  to  help  old  gentle 
men."  And  as  she  left  him  and  ran  impetuously  to 
open  the  door  herself,  he  called  after  her,  "Nelly,  don't 
have  dinner  held  back!" 

Mr.  Benjamin  Wright  stood,  panting,  at  the  foot 
of  the  porch  steps;  he  could  hardly  lift  his  head  to 
look  up  at  the  figure  in  the  doorway.  "You — Mrs. 
Richie?"  he  gasped. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said.  "May  I  help  you?  These 
steps  are  so  steep." 

"No,"  he  snarled.  "Do  you  think  I'm  so  decrepit 
that  I  have  to  have  a  female  help  me  up-stairs?" 
Then  he  began  toiling  up  the  steps.  "My  name  is 
Wright.  You  know  my  grandson?  Sam?  Great 
fool!  I've  come  to  call  on  you."  On  the  porch  he 
drew  a  long  breath,  pulled  off  his  mangy  old  beaver 
hat,  and,  with  a  very  courtly  bow,  held  out  his  hand. 
"Madam,  permit  me  to  pay  my  respects  to  you.  I 
am  your  neighbor.  In  fact,  your  only  neighbor;  with 
out  me, 

•  Montium  domtna  ut  fores 
silvarumque  virentium 
saltuumque  reconditorum 
amniumque  sonantum. ' 

Understand  that?  No?  Good.  I  don't  like  learned 
females." 

She  took  his  hand  in  a  bewildered  way,  glancing 
back  over  her  shoulder  at  Mr.  Pry  or,  uncertain  what 
she  ought  to  do.  Mr.  Wright  decided  for  her. 

"I  know  this  house,"  he  said,  pushing  past  her  into 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

the  dusky  hall;  " friend  of  mine  used  to  live  here.  Ho! 
This  is  the  parlor.  Well;  who's  this?"  He  stood 
chewing  orange-skin  and  blinking  up  at  Lloyd  Pryor, 
who  came  forward  reluctantly. 

"My  name  is  Pryor,  sir.     I — " 

"Oh!  Yes.  /know.  /know.  The  lady's  brother. 
Here!  Push  that  chair  out  for  me." 

And  Mr.  Lloyd  Pryor  found  himself  bringing  a 
chair  forward  and  taking  the  hat  and  stick  from  the 
trembling  old  hand.  Helena  had  gone  quickly  into 
the  dining-room,  and  came  back  with  a  decanter  and 
glass  on  a  little  tray.  She  gave  a  distressed  glance  at 
her  other  guest  as  though  to  say,  "I  can't  help  it!" 

Benjamin  Wright's  old  head  in  its  brown  wig  was 
still  shaking  with  fatigue,  but  under  the  prickle  of 
white  on  his  shaven  jowl  the  purplish  color  came  back 
in  mottled  streaks.  He  sipped  the  sherry  breath 
lessly,  the  glass  trembling  in  his  veined  and  shrunken 
hand.  "Well,"  he  demanded,  "how  do  you  two  like 
this  God -forsaken  place?" 

Mr.  Pryor,  looking  over  their  visitor's  head  at  Helena, 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  very  nice,"  she  said  vaguely. 

"It's  a  narrowing  place,"  he  demurred,  "very  nar 
rowing;  sit  down,  sit  down,  good  people!  I'll  take 
some  more  sherry.  My  grandson,"  he  went  on,  as 
Helena  filled  his  glass,  "is  always  talking  about  you, 
madam.  He's  a  great  jackass.  I'm  afraid  he  bothers 
you  with  his  calls?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  Helena  said  nervously.  She  sat 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  big  rosewood  centre- 
table,  glancing  with  worried  eyes  at  Lloyd  Pryor. 

"Move  that  lamp  contraption,"  commanded  Mr. 
Wright.  "I  like  to  see  my  hostess!" 

52 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

And  Helena  pushed  the  astral  lamp  from  the  centre 
of  the  table  so  that  his  view  was  unobstructed. 

"Is  he  a  nuisance  with  his  talk  about  his  drama?" 
Mr.  Wright  said,  looking  across  at  her  with  open  eager 
ness  in  his  melancholy  eyes. 

"Why,  no  indeed." 

"Do  you  think  it's  so  very  bad,  considering?" 

"It  is  not  bad  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Richie. 

His  face  lighted  like  a  child's.  "Young  fool!  As 
if  he  could  write  a  drama!  Well,  madam,  I  came  to 
ask  you  to  do  me  the  honor  of  taking  supper  with  me 
to-morrow  night,  and  then  of  listening  to  this  wonder 
ful  production.  Of  course,  sir,  I  include  you.  My 
nigger  will  provide  you  with  a  fairly  good  bottle. 
Then  this  grandson  of  mine  will  read  his  truck  aloud. 
But  we  will  fortify  ourselves  with  supper  first." 

His  artless  pride  in  planning  this  distressing  festivity 
was  so  ludicrous  that  Lloyd  Pryor's  disgust  changed 
into  involuntary  mirth.  But  Helena  was  plainly 
nervous.  "Thank  you;  you  are  very  kind;  but  I  am 
afraid  I  must  say  no." 

Mr.  Pryor  was  silently  retreating  towards  the  din 
ing-room.  As  for  the  visitor,  he  only  had  eyes  for  the 
mistress  of  the  house. 

"Why  should  you  say  no?" 

She  tried  to  answer  lightly.  "Oh,  I  like  to  be 
quiet." 

"Quiet?"  cried  Benjamin  Wright,  rapping  the  table 
with  his  wine-glass.  "At  your  age?  Nonsense!" 
He  paused,  cleared  his  throat,  and  then  sonorously: 


" '  Can  you  endure  the  livery  of  a  nun, 
For  aye  to  be  in  shady  cloister  mew'd, 
To  live  a  barren  sister  all  your  life, 
Chanting  faint  hymns  to  the  cold,  fruitless  moon  ?' 

53 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Give  me  some  more  sherry.  Of  course  you  must  come. 
No  use  being  siiy — a  pretty  creatur'  like  you!  And 
you  said  you  liked  the  play,"  he  added  with  childlike 
reproach. 

Helena,  glad  to  change  the  subject,  made  haste  to 
reassure  him.  "I  do,  I  do!"  she  said,  and  for  a  few 
minutes  she  kept  the  old  face  beaming  with  her  praise 
of  Sam  and  his  work.  Unlike  his  grandson,  Mr. 
Wright  was  not  critical  of  her  criticism.  Nothing  she 
could  say  seemed  to  him  excessive.  He  contradicted 
every  statement,  but  he  believed  it  implicitly.  Then 
with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  he  returned  to  his  invitation. 
Helena  shook  her  head  decidedly. 

"No;  thank  you  very  much.     Mr.   Pryor  couldn't 
possibly  come.     He  is  only  here  over  Sunday,  and — 
She  looked  towards  the  dining-room  for  protection, 
but  the  door  had  been  gently  closed. 

"Hey?"  Benjamin  Wright  said  blankly.  "Well, 
I  won't  insist;  I  won't  insist.  We'll  wait  till  he  goes. 
Come  Monday  night." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  her  voice  fluttering,  "I  am  sorry 
but  I  really  can't." 

"Why  can't  you?"  he  insisted.  "Come,  tell  the 
truth!  The  advantage  of  telling  the  truth,  young 
lady,  is  that  neither  God  nor  the  devil  can  contradict 
you!"  He  laughed,  eying  her  with  high  good  humor. 

"Oh,  it's  merely — "  she  hesitated,  and  he  looked 
affronted. 

"What!  Some  female  airs  about  coming  to  an  un 
married  man's  house?"  Her  involuntary  mirth  dis 
armed  him.  "No?  Well,  I'm  glad  you've  got  some 
sense.  Then  you'll  come?" 

"If  I  went  to  your  house,  it  would  seem  unfriendly 
not  to  go  to  other  houses." 

54 


"HE    PUT    HIS    FACE    CLOSE    TO    HERS,    AND    STARED    INTO    HER 
EYES  " 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Why  shouldn't  you  go  to  other  houses?  Done 
anything  you're  ashamed  of?"  He  laughed  uproar 
iously  at  his  own  wit.  "Come  new;  don't  be  finikin 
and  ladylike!" 

"I  don't  make  visits,"  she  explained,  the  color  ris 
ing  angrily  in  her  cheeks. 

"Gad-a-mercy!  Why  not?"  he  interrupted.  "Do 
you  think  you're  too  good  for  us  here  in  Old  Chester  ?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wright!" 

"Or  perhaps  Old  Chester  is  too  good  for  you?" 

His  face  had  softened  wonderfully;  he  was  looking 
at  her  with  the  same  quizzical  delight  with  which  he 
would  look  at  one  of  his  canaries  when  he  caught  it, 
and  held  it  struggling  in  his  hand.  "Are  we  too  good 
for  you?"  he  jeered,  "too — " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  his  laugh  breaking  off  in  the 
middle.  Then  his  mouth  fell  slowly  open  in  blank 
amazement ;  he  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  and  stared 
at  her  without  a  word. 

"I  don't  care  for  society,"  she  said,  in  a  frightened 
way,  and  rose  as  if  to  bring  the  visit  to  an  end. 

But  Benjamin  Wright  sat  still,  slowly  nodding  his 
head.  "You  don't  care  for  society?  I  wonder  why." 

"Oh,  because  I  am — a  very  quiet  person,"  she  stam 
mered. 

The  dining-room  door  opened  and  Sarah  came  in, 
looked  about,  found  the  decanter,  and  withdrew. 

"Where  is  —  that  gentleman?"  the  old  man  de 
manded. 

"Mr.  Pry  or  went  in  to  dinner,"  she  said  faintly. 
"Please  excuse  him;  he  was  tired." 

The  silence  that  fell  between  them  was  like  a  blow. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Wright  pulled  himself  to  his  feet,  and  with  one 
shaking  hand  on  the  table  felt  his  way  around  until 

55 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

he  stood  directly  in  front  of  her;  he  put  his  face  close 
to  hers  and  stared  into  her  eyes,  his  lower  lip  opening 
and  closing  in  silence.  Then,  without  speaking,  he  be 
gan  to  grope  about  on  the  table  for  his  hat  and  stick. 

"I  will  bid  you  good  day,"  he  said. 

Without  another  word  he  went  shuffling  out  into  the 
dark  hall.  At  the  front  door  he  turned  and  looked 
back  at  her;  then,  slowly,  shook  his  head. 


CHAPTER  VI 

POOR  Maggie  paid  for  her  good  nature.  On  Sun 
day  morning  she  was  so  decidedly  worse  that  Will 
iam  King,  to  the  disgust  of  his  Martha,  was  summoned 
from  his  breakfast-table. 

"Women  who  can't  look  after  a  simple  sore  throat 
without  bothering  their  doctors,  are  pretty  inefficient 
creatures,"  she  said  coldly. 

William  thought  of  women  who  were  so  efficient 
that  they  did  not  hesitate  to  advise  their  doctors ;  but 
he  only  agreed  with  proper  seriousness  to  Martha's 
declaration  that  it  was  too  bad,  for  he  would  be  late 
for  church — "unless  you  hurry,  Williaml"  she  called 
after  him. 

Perhaps  he  hurried  when  he  was  with  Maggie,  but 
certainly  he  displayed  no  haste  when  giving  his  direc 
tions  to  Mrs.  Richie,  nor  even  later  when  just  as  he 
was  about  to  drive  off,  Mr.  Pryor  hailed  him  from  the 
garden. 

"How's  your  patient,  doctor?" 

"Pretty  sick.  She  didn't  obey  your  sister's  orders 
and  keep  in  bed  yesterday.  So,  of  course,  she's  worse 
to-day." 

Mr.  Pryor  leaned  a  comfortable  elbow  on  the  green 
gate.  "That's  a  nice  prospect  I  What  am  I  going 
to  have  to  eat?"  he  said,  good-humoredly. 

Yet  behind  the  good  humor  there  was  annoyance. 
57 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

It  came  into  William  King's  mind  that  this  fellow 
would  not  spare  his  sister  his  irritation,  and  with  a 
sudden  impulse  of  concern  for  her,  he  said,  "  Well  now, 
look  here;  why  don't  you  and  Mrs.  Richie  come  in  this 
evening  and  take  tea  with  us?  I  don't  know  what 
you'll  get,  but  come  and  take  pot -luck." 

"Thank  you,"  Lloyd  Pryor  said,  "but—" 

"Oh,  come  now,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  gathering 
up  his  reins;  "you  good  people  are  not  neighborly 
enough.  We'll  expect  you  both  at  six." 

"You  are  very  kind,  but  I  think — " 

But  William  would  not  listen.  He  was  in  great 
spirits.  "  It  will  be  pot -luck,  and  my  wife  will  be  de 
lighted — "  then,  his  voice  dragged — "I  hope  you'll 
come,"  he  said  uncertainly. 

Mr.  Pryor  began  to  protest,  but  ended  with  a  laugh. 
"Well,  well  come!  Thank  you  very  much." 

"That's  good,"  the  doctor  said  a  little  less  cordially. 
Indeed,  as  he  drove  away  he  looked  distinctly  less 
cordial,  and  once  he  sighed.  .  .  .  Now,  how  should  he 
put  it?  "Oh,  Martha,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Pryor  and  his 
sister  will  drop  in  to  tea  to-night.  I  suggested  it, 
and — "  No,  that  would  not  do.  .  .  .  "Martha,  it  oc 
curred  to  me  it  would  be  neighborly — "  No.  "  Con 
found  it,"  William  King  muttered  to  himself,  "what 
did  I  do  it  for,  anyhow?  *  Martha,  my  dear,  I  know 
you  like  to  do  a  kindness,  so  I  asked  Mrs.  Richie  and 
her  brother'  " — that  was  better.  "But  I  hate  a  cir 
cumbendibus!"  William  said,  irritably,  to  himself. 
Then  he  drew  a  long  breath,  and  set  his  lips  as  a  man 
may  who  is  about  to  face  the  domestic  cannon's 
mouth. 

After  he  had  driven  on,  screwing  up  his  courage,  it 
appeared  that  Mr.  Pryor  also  had  a  cannon  to  face. 

58 


THE    AWAKENING   OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Helena  Richie  came  out  into  the  garden,  and  found 
him  sitting  on  a  bench  built  round  a  great  silver  poplar. 
Her  face  was  worried.  "I  ought  not  to  have  made 
poor  Maggie  get  up  yesterday,"  she  said;  "but  I  was 
so  distressed  not  to  have  a  good  dinner  for  you." 

"Well,  at  least  you  need  have  no  anxieties  about 
supper;  weVe  had  an  invitation." 

"An  invitation!  From  Dr.  King?  Well,  that's 
very  nice  in  him.  But,  of  course — " 

"I  told  him  we  would  come." 

"You  told  him  we  would  come!" 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  Nelly.  People  who  invite  you 
face  to  face  are  perfect  nuisances.  But,  really,  it's 
no  great  matter — for  once.  And  I  knew  it  would  be 
a  convenience  for  you.  Besides,  I  wanted  a  good 
supper." 

"Well,  we  must  make  some  excuse." 

"There  isn't  any  excuse  to  make,"  he  explained, 
good-naturedly;  I  tried  to  find  one  and  couldn't. 
We've  got  to  go." 

"/  sha'n't  go." 

He  looked  at  her  from  under  his  heavy  eyelids ;  then 
blew  two  smoke  wreaths  slowly,  "You're  a  queer 
creature." 

She  turned  on  him  hotly.  "Queer?  Because  I 
won't  go  out  to  supper  with  you?  I'd  be  queer  if  I 
did!  I'm  entirely  satisfied  with  myself,  Lloyd;  I 
consider  that  I  have  a  perfect  right  to  be  happy  in 
my  own  way.  You  know  I  don't  care  a  copper  for 
what  you  call  *  morality'!  it's  nothing  but  cowardly 
conventionality.  But  I  won't  go  out  to  supper  with 
you." 

"Please  don't  let  us  have  a  tirade,"  he  said.  "I 
thought  it  would  be  more  convenient  for  you.  That's 

5  59 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

always  the  way  with  your  sex,  Helena,  you  do  a  thing 
to  help  them  out,  and  they  burst  into  tears." 

"I  haven't  burst  into  tears,"  she  said  sullenly,  "but 
I  won't  go." 

"Come,  now!  don't  be  a  goose.  I  wouldn't  make  a 
practice  of  accepting  their  invitations;  but  for  once, 
what  does  it  matter?" 

"Can't  you  understand?"  she  said  passionately; 
"they  are  kind  to  me!" 

She  turned  quickly  and  ran  into  the  garden,  leaving 
him  to  call  after  her:  "Well,  you've  got  to  go  to-night, 
because  I've  accepted." 

"I  won't  go  to-night!"  she  flung  back,  her  voice 
breaking. 

Lloyd  Pryor  shook  his  head.  "And  she  wonders  I 
don't  come  oftener,"  he  said  to  himself. 

So  the  sleepy  Sunday  morning  passed.  Mr.  Pryor 
roamed  about  the  garden,  looking  furtively  over  his 
shoulder  now  and  then — but  Helena  had  disappeared. 
"  Sulking  in  her  room,  I  suppose,"  he  thought. 

He  had  come  at  some  inconvenience,  to  spend  Sun 
day  and  talk  over  this  project  of  the  child;  "for  I'd 
like  to  see  her  happier,"  he  told  himself;  and  now,  in 
stead  of  sitting  down,  sensibly,  to  discuss  things,  she 
flared  out  over  this  invitation  to  supper.  Her  in 
tensity  fatigued  him.  "I  must  be  getting  old,"  he 
ruminated,  "and  Helena  will  always  be  the  age  she 
was  ten  years  ago.  Ten?  It's  thirteen!  How  time 
flies;  she  was  twenty.  How  interested  I  was  in  Fred 
erick's  health  in  those  days!" 

He  stretched  himself  out  on  the  bench  under  the 
poplar,  and  lit  another  cigar.  "If  I'm  willing  to  go, 
why  is  she  so  exercised?  Women  are  all  alike — ex 
cept  Alice."  He  smiled  as  he  thought  of  his  girl,  and 

60 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

instantly  the  hardness  in  his  face  lifted,  as  a  cloud 
shadow  lifts  and  leaves  sunshine  behind  it.  Then 
some  obscure  sense  of  fitness  made  him  pull  himself 
together,  and  put  his  mind  on  affairs  that  had  nothing 
in  common  with  Helena ;  affairs  in  which  he  could  in 
clude  his  girl  without  offending  his  taste. 

After  a  while  he  got  up  and  wandered  about  between 
the  borders,  where  the  clean,  bitter  scent  of  daffodils 
mingled  with  the  box.  Once  he  stood  still,  looking 
down  over  the  orchard  on  the  hill-side  below  him,  at 
the  bright  sheen  of  the  river  edged  with  leafless  maples ; 
on  its  farther  side  were  the  meadows,  and  then  the 
hills,  smoky  in  their  warm  haze.  Over  all  was  the 
pale  April  sky  with  skeins  of  gray  cloud  in  the  west. 
He  wondered  what  Alice  was  doing  at  this  moment, 
and  looked  at  his  watch.  She  must  be  just  coming 
back  from  church.  When  he  was  at  home  Mr.  Pryor 
went  to  church  himself,  and  watched  her  saying  her 
little  prayers.  This  assumption  of  the  Pryor-Barr 
liabilities  would  be  a  serious  check  to  the  fortune  he 
was  building  up  for  her;  he  set  his  jaw  angrily  at  the 
thought,  but  of  course  it  couldn't  be  helped.  Further 
more,  Alice  took  great  pride  in  the  almost  quixotic 
sense  of  honor  that  had  prompted  the  step;  a  pride 
which  gave  him  a  secret  satisfaction,  quite  fatuous 
and  childlike  and  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  certain 
other  characteristics,  also  secret. 

There  was  a  gleam  of  humor  in  his  eyes,  as  he  said 
to  himself  that  he  hoped  Alice  would  not  ask  him  how 
he  had  spent  his  Sunday  morning.  Alice  had  such  a 
feeling  about  truth,  that  he  did  not  like  to  tell  her 
even  little  lies,  little  ones  that  she  could  not  possibly 
find  out.  It  was  the  sentiment  of  fibbing  to  his  girl, 
that  offended  him,  not  the  fib;  for  Mr.  Lloyd  Pryor 

61 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

had  no  doubt  that,  in  certain  matters,  Truth  must  be 
governed  by  the  law  of  benefit. 

Thinking  of  his  daughter,  and  smiling  to  himself, 
he  lounged  aimlessly  about  the  garden;  then  it  oc 
curred  to  him  to  go  into  the  stable  and  look  at  Helena's 
pony.  After  that  he  strolled  over  to  the  carriage- 
house  where  were  stored  a  number  of  cases  contain 
ing  stuffed  creatures — birds  and  chipmunks  and  small 
furry  things.  Some  larger  animals  were  slung  up  un 
der  the  beams  of  the  loft  to  get  them  out  of  the  way; 
there  was  a  bear  in  one  corner,  and  a  great  crocodile, 
and  a  shark;  possessions  of  the  previous  owner  of  the 
Stuffed  Animal  House,  stored  here  by  her  executor, 
pending  the  final  settlement  of  the  estate. 

Lloyd  Fryor  stood  at  the  doorway  looking  in. 
Through  a  grimed  and  cobwebbed  window  at  the  far 
ther  end  of  the  room  the  light  filtered  down  among 
the  still  figures;  there  was  the  smell  of  dead  fur  and 
feathers,  and  of  some  acrid  preservative.  One  box 
had  been  broken  in  moving  it  from  the  house,  and  a 
beaver  had  slipped  from  his  carefully  bitten  branch, 
and  lay  on  the  dusty  boards,  a  burst  of  cotton  pushing 
through  the  splitting  belly -seam.  Lloyd  Pryor  thrust 
it  into  its  case  with  his  stick,  and  started  as  he  did  so. 
Something  moved,  back  in  the  dusk. 

"It's  I,  Lloyd,"  Helena  Richie  said. 

"You?  My  dear  Nelly!  Why  are  you  sitting  in 
this  gloomy  place?" 

She  smiled  faintly,  but  her  face  was  weary  with 
tears.  "  Oh,  I  just — came  in  here,"  she  said  vaguely. 

She  had  said  to  herself  when,  angry  and  wounded, 
she  left  him  in  the  garden,  that  if  she  went  back  to 
the  house  he  would  find  her.  So  she  had  come  here 
to  the  dust  and  silence  of  the  carriage-house,  and  sit- 

62 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

ting  down  on  one  of  the  cases  had  hidden  her  face  in 
her  hands.  Little  by  little  anger  ebbed.  Just  misery 
remained .  But  still  she  sat  there,  looking  absently  at 
these  dead  creatures  about  her,  or  at  a  thin  line  of 
sunshine  falling  through  a  heart-shaped  opening  in  a 
shutter,  and  moving  noiselessly  across  the  floor.  A 
mote  dipped  into  this  stream  of  light,  zigzagged 
through  it,  then  sank  into  the  darkness.  She  followed 
it  with  dull  eyes,  thinking,  if  she  thought  at  all,  that 
she  wished  she  did  not  have  to  sit  opposite  Lloyd  at 
dinner.  But,  of  course,  she  would  have  to;  the  ser 
vants  would  think  it  strange  if  she  did  not  come  to 
table  with  him.  Suddenly  the  finger  of  sunshine  van 
ished,  and  all  the  motes  were  gone.  Raising  her  head 
with  a  long  sigh  she  saw  him  in  the  doorway,  his  tall 
figure  black  against  the  smiling  spring  landscape  out 
side.  Her  heart  came  up  into  her  throat  with  a  rush  of 
delight.  He  was  looking  for  her!  Ah,  this  was  the 
way  it  had  been  in  those  first  days,  when  he  could  not 
bear  to  let  her  out  of  his  sightl 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  with  careless  friendliness, 
and  helped  her  to  her  feet.  "What  a  place  this  will 
be  for  your  boy  to  play.  He  can  be  cast  away  on  a 
desert  island  and  surrounded  by  wild  animals  every 
day  in  the  week."  His  voice  was  so  kind  that  her 
anger  of  two  hours  ago  seemed  impossible — a  mistake, 
a  misunderstanding!  She  tried  in  a  bewildered  way 
to  get  back  to  it  in  her  own  mind ;  but  he  was  so  matter 
of  fact  about  the  stuffed  animals  and  the  little  boy 
and  the  desert  island,  that  she  could  only  say  vaguely, 
"Yes,  it  would  be  nice;  but  of  course  I'm  not  going  to 
take  him.*' 

"  Well  now,  that's  just  what  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
about,"  he  said,  watching  her  through  his  long,  curling 

63 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

eyelashes.     "That's  why  I  came  down  to  Old  Ches 
ter— " 

"Oh,  is  it?" 

He  checked  an  impatient  exclamation,  and  then 
went  on:  "When  I  got  your  letter  about  this  boy,  I 
was  really  delighted. — Let's  go  out  into  the  sunshine; 
the  smell  of  this  place  is  very  disagreeable. — I  think 
you  would  find  the  child  company ;  I  really  hope  you 
will  take  him."  His  voice  was  sincere  and  she  softened. 

"It's  kind  of  you,  Lloyd,  to  urge  it.  But  no;  it 
won't  do." 

"My  dear,  of  course  it  will  do!  You'll  give  him  a 
good  home,  and — " 

"No,  no,  I  can't;  you  know  I  can't." 

"My  dear  Nelly!  What  possible  harm  could  you 
do  the  child?" 

She  drew  awry  from  him  sharply.  "/  do  him  any 
harm!  I!  Oh — you  wouldn't  have  said  such  a  thing, 
once!"  She  pressed  the  back  of  her  hand  against  her 
lips,  and  Lloyd  Prycr  studiously  looked  in  another  di 
rection. 

"What  have  I  said?  That  you  wouldn't  do  him 
any  harm!  Is  there  anything  unkind  in  that?  Look 
here,  Nell,  you  really  mustn't  be  so  unreasonable*, 
There  is  nothing  a  man  hates  so  much  as  a  fool.  I 
am  merely  urging  something  for  your  pleasure.  He 
would  be  company  for  you;  I  thought  him  quite  an 
attractive  youngster." 

"And  you  wouldn't  have  me  so  much  on  your  mind  ? 
You  wouldn't  feel  you  had  to  come  and  see  me  so 
often!" 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  put  it  that  way,"  he  said 
coldly.  "I'm  a  very  busy  man.  I  can't  get  off  when 
ever  I  feel  like  it.  "* 

64 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"And  you  can't  leave  your  beloved  Alice." 

He  shot  a  blue  gleam  at  her  from  under  his  heavy 
eyelids.  "No;  I  can't." 

She  quivered.  But  he  went  on  quietly:  "I  know 
you're  lonely,  Helena,  and  as  I  can't  come  and  see  you 
quite  so  often  as  I  used  to,  I  want  you  to  take  this 
little  fellow,  simply  to  amuse  you." 

She  walked  beside  him  silently.  When  they  reached 
the  bench  under  the  poplar,  she  sat  looking  into  the 
April  distance  without  speaking.  She  was  saying  to 
herself,  miserably,  that  she  didn't  want  the  child ;  she 
didn't  want  to  lessen  any  sense  of  obligation  that 
brought  him  to  her; — and  yet,  she  did  not  want  him 
to  come  from  a  sense  of  obligation! 

"You  would  get  great  fun  out  of  him,  Nelly,"  he  in 
sisted. 

And  looking  up,  she  saw  the  kindness  of  his  face  and 
yielded.  "Well,  perhaps  I  will;  that  is,  if  Dr.  Laven- 
dar  will  let  me  have  him.  I'm  afraid  of  Dr.  Lavendar 
somehow." 

"Good!"  he  said  heartily;  "that's  a  real  weight  off 
my  mind." 

Her  lip  curled  again,  but  she  said  nothing.  Lloyd 
Pryor  yawned;  then  he  asked  her  whether  she  meant 
to  buy  the  house. 

"I  don't  know;  sometimes  I  think  there  is  less  se 
clusion  in  the  country  than  there  is  in  town."  She 
drew  down  a  twig,  and  began  to  pull  at  the  buds  with 
aimless  fingers.  "  I  might  like  to  come  to  Philadelphia 
and  live  near  you,  you  know,"  she  said.  The  sudden 
malice  in  her  eyes  was  answered  by  the  shock  in  his; 
his  voice  was  disturbed  when  he  spoke,  though  his 
words  were  commonplace: 

"It's  a  pleasant  enough  house." 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Then  he  looked  at  his  watch,  opening  the  case 
under  the  shelter  of  his  hand — but  she  saw  the  photo 
graph  in  the  lid. 

"Is  that  a  good  picture  of  Alice?"  she  said  with  an 
effort. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  hastily  snapping  the  lid  shut. 
"Helena,  what  are  we  going  tc  have  for  dinner?" 

"Oh,  nothing  very  much,  I'm  afraid,"  she  told  him 
ruefully.  Then  rising,  she  held  out  her  hand.  "  Come! 
We  mustn't  quarrel  again.  I  don't  know  why  we  al 
ways  squabble!" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to,"  he  said.  "Nelly,  you 
are  prettier  every  time  I  see  you."  He  put  a  finger 
into  one  of  the  loose  curls  in  the  nape  of  her  neck,  and 
she  looked  up  at  him,  her  lip  trembling. 

"And  do  you  love  me?" 

"Of  course  I  do!"  he  declared,  slipping  his  arm 
around  her  waist.  And  they  walked  thus  between 
the  box  borders,  back  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VII 

BUT  she  would  not  go  to  the  Kings'  to  tea. 
"No,"  she   said,  her   eyes   crinkling  with  fun, 
"I'm  not  going;  but  you've  got  to;    you  promised! 
And  remember,  I  have  'a,  very  severe  headache."1 

He  laughed,  with  a  droll  look,  and  then  explained 
that  at  home  he  was  never  allowed  to  tell  tarradiddles. 
"Alice  has  a  perfect  mania  about  truth,"  he  said  rue 
fully;  "it  is  sometimes  very  inconvenient.  Yes;  I'll 
enlarge  upon  your  headache,  my  dear.  But  why  in 
thunder  did  I  say  yes  to  that  confounded  doctor?  I'd 
like  to  wring  your  cook's  neck,  Nelly!" 

"You'll  have  a  good  supper,"  she  consoled  him, 
"and  that's  what  you  want.  They  say  Mrs.  King  is  a 
great  housekeeper.  And  besides,  if  you  stayed  at 
home  you  would  probably  have  to  entertain  Mr.  Sam 
Wright." 

"I'll  be  darned  if  I  would,"  he  assured  her,  amiably, 
and  started  off. 

He  had  the  good  supper,  although  when  the  doctor 
broke  to  his  wife  that  company  was  coming,  Mrs.  King 
had  protested  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  house  to 
eat.  "And  there's  one  thing  about  me,  I  may  not  be 
perfect,  but  I  am  hospitable,  and — " 

"Just  give  them  what  we  were  going  to  have  our 
selves." 

"Now,  William!     I  must  say,  flatly  and  frankly — " 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"There's  the  office  bell,"  murmured  the  doctor, 
sidling  away  and  hearing  the  reproachful  voice  lessen 
ing  in  the  distance — "how  hard  I  try — nothing  fit — " 

The  office  door  closed;  the  worst  was  over.  There 
would  be  a  good  supper — William  had  no  misgivings 
on  that  point.  Mrs.  Richie  would  talk  to  him,  and  he 
would  tease  her  and  make  her  laugh,  and  laugh  him 
self.  The  doctor  did  not  laugh  very  much  in  his  own 
house;  domestic  virtue  does  not  necessarily  add  to  the 
gayety  of  life.  During  the  afternoon  Willy  tried  on 
three  different  neckties,  and  twice  put  cologne  on  his 
handkerchief.  Then  appeared  Mr.  Pryor  to  say  that 
Mrs.  Richie  had  one  of  her  headaches!  He  was  so 
sorry,  but  Mrs.  King  knew  what  a  bad  headache  was  ? 

"Indeed  I  do,"  Martha  said,  "only  too  well.  But 
/  can't  give  way  to  them.  That's  what  it  is  to  be  a 
doctor's  wife;  the  patients  get  all  the  prescriptions," 
Martha  said;  and  William,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
saw  that  she  was  smiling!  Well,  well;  evidently  Mrs. 
Richie's  defection  did  not  trouble  her;  the  doctor  was 
glad  of  that.  "But  I  didn't  bargain  on  entertaining 
the  brother,"  he  said  to  himself  crossly;  and  after  the 
manner  of  husbands,  he  left  the  entertaining  to  Martha. 

Martha,  however,  did  her  duty.  She  thought  Mr. 
Pryor  a  very  agreeable  gentleman;  "far  more  agree 
able  than  his  sister,"  she  told  William  afterwards.  "I 
don't  know  why,"  said  Martha,  "but  I  sort  of  distrust 
that  woman.  But  the  brother  is  all  right;  you  can 
see  that — and  a  very  intelligent  man,  too.  We  dis 
cussed  a  good  many  points,  and  I  found  we  agreed 
perfectly." 

Mr.  Pryor  also  had  an  opinion  on  that  supper-table 
talk.  He  said  to  himself  grimly,  that  Nelly's  bread 
and  jam  would  have  been  better.  But  probably 

68 


THE    AWAKENING   OF  HELENA    RICHIE 

bread  and  jam,  followed  by  young  Sam  Wright,  would 
have  seemed  less  desirable  than  Mrs.  King's  excellent 
supper. 

It  was  about  seven  when  the  boy  appeared  at  the 
Stuffed  Animal  House.  Had  Mr.  Pryor  been  at  home, 
Helena  would,  no  doubt,  have  found  some  way  of  dis 
missing  him;  as  it  was,  she  let  him  stay.  He  was 
bareheaded;  he  had  seen  a  bird  flapping  painfully 
about  in  the  road,  and  catching  it  in  gentle  hands  had 
discovered  that  its  wing  was  broken,  so  put  it  tenderly 
in  his  cap  and  brought  it  to  Mrs.  Richie's  door. 

"Poor  little  thing!"  she  cried,  when  he  showed  it  to 
her.  "I  wish  Mr.  Pryor  would  come  back;  he  would 
tell  us  what  to  do  for  it." 

''Oh,  is  he  here?"  Sam  asked  blankly. 

"Well,  not  at  this  moment.  He  has  gone  to  take 
tea  at  Dr.  King's." 

Sam's  face  lightened  with  relief. 

"You  mustn't  tell  anybody  you  saw  me  this  even 
ing,"  she  charged  him  gayly.  "I  didn't  go  to  Mrs. 
King's  because — I  had  such  a  very  bad  headache!" 

"Is  it  better?"  he  asked,  so  anxiously  that  she 
blushed. 

"Oh,  yes,  yes.  But  before  tea  I — didn't  want  to 
go." 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't,"  he  said,  and  forgot  her  in 
caring  for  the  bird.  He  ordered  a  box  and  some  cot 
ton  batting — "and  give  me  your  handkerchief."  As 
he  spoke,  he  took  it  from  her  surprised  hand  and  tore 
it  into  strips;  then,  lifting  the  broken  wing  with 
exquisite  gentleness,  he  bound  it  into  place.  She 
looked  at  the  bandages  ruefully,  but  Sam  was  per 
fectly  matter-of-course.  "  It  would  have  been  better 
without  lace,"  he  said;  "but  it  will  do.  Will  you  look 

69 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

at  him  sometimes?     Just  your  touch  will  cure  him,  I 
think." 

Mrs.  Richie  laughed. 

"Well,  you  can  laugh,  but  it's  true.  When  I  am 
near  you  I  have  no  pain  and  no  worry;  nothing  but 
happiness."  He  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  old  claw- 
footed  sofa  near  the  fire,  for  it  was  cool  enough  these 
spring  evenings  to  have  a  little  fire.  He  leaned  for 
ward,  resting  his  chin  on  his  fist,  and  staring  into  the 
blaze.  Once  he  put  his  hand  out  and  touched  her 
dress  softly,  and  smiled  to  himself.  Then  abruptly, 
he  came  out  of  his  reverie,  and  spoke  with  joyous  ex 
citement  : 

"Why!  I  forgot  what  I  came  to  tell  you  about  — 
something  extraordinary  has  happened!" 

"Oh,  what?"  she  demanded,  with  a  sweet  eagerness 
that  was  as  young  as  his  own. 

"You  could  never  guess,"  he  assured  her.  "To 
night,  at  supper,  grandfather  suddenly  told  me  that 
he  wanted  me  to  travel  for  a  while — he  wanted  me  to 
go  away  from  Old  Chester.  I  was  perfectly  amazed. 
'Go  hunt  up  a  publisher  for  your  truck,'  he  said.  He 
always  calls  the  drama  my  'truck,'"  Sam  said  snicker 
ing;  "but  the  main  thing,  evidently,  was  to  have  me 
get  away  from  home.  To  improve  my  mind,  I  sup 
pose.  He  said  all  gentlemen  ought  to  travel.  To 
live  in  one  place  all  the  time  was  very  narrowing,  he 
said.  I  told  him  I  hadn't  any  money,  and  he  said  he'd 
give  me  some.  He  said,  'anything  to  get  you  away.' 
It  wasn't  very  flattering,  was  it?" 

Helena's  face  flashed  into  suspicion.  "Why  did  he 
want  to  get  you  away?"  she  asked  coldly.  There  was 
an  alarmed  alertness  in  her  voice  that  made  the  boy 
look  at  her. 

70 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"He  said  he  wanted  me  to  'be  able  to  know  cakes 
and  ale  when  I  saw  them,'"  Sam  quoted.  "Isn't  that 
just  like  grandfather?' 

"Know  cakes  and  ale!"  she  stammered,  and  then 
looked  at  him  furtively.  She  took  one  of  the  little 
hand-screens  from  the  mantel,  and  held  it  so  that  he 
could  not  see  her  face.  For  a  minute  the  pleasant 
firelit  silence  fell  between  them. 

"Oh,  listen,"  Sam  said  in  a  whisper;  "do  you  hear 
the  sap  singing  in  the  log?"  He  bent  forward  with 
parted  lips,  intent  upon  the  exquisite  sound — a  dream 
of  summer  leaves  rustling  and  blowing  in  the  wind. 
He  turned  his  limpid  stag's  eyes  to  hers  to  feel  her 
pleasure. 

"I  think,"  Mrs.  Richie  said  with  an  effort  that 
made  her  voice  hard,  "that  it  would  be  an  excellent 
thing  for  you  to  go  away." 

"And  leave  you?" 

"  Please  don't  talk  that  way.  Your  grandfather  is 
quite  right." 

The  boy  smiled.  "I  suppose  you  really  can't  un 
derstand?  It's  part  of  your  loveliness  that  you  can't. 
If  you  could,  you  would  know  that  I  can't  go  away. 
I  told  him  I  was  much  obliged,  but  I  couldn't  leave 
Old  Chester." 

"Oh,  please!  you  mustn't  be  foolish.  I  don't  like 
you  when  you  are  foolish.  Will  you  please  remember 
how  much  older  I  am  than  you  ?  Let's  talk  of  some 
thing  else.  Let's  talk  about  the  little  boy  who  is  com 
ing  to  visit  me — his  name  is  David." 

"I  would  rather  talk  about  you,  and  what  you 
mean  to  me — beauty  and  poetry  and  good — " 

"Don't!"  she  said  sharply. 

"Beauty  and  poetry  and  goodness." 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

"I'm  not  beautiful,  and  I'm  not — poetical." 

"And  so  I  worship  you,"  the  young  man  went  on 
in  a  low  happy  voice. 

"Do  please  be  quiet!     I  won't  be  worshipped." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  help  it,"  he  said 
calmly.  "Mrs.  Richie,  I've  got  my  skiff;  it  came 
yesterday.  Will  you  go  out  on  the  river  with  me 
some  afternoon?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  I  care  about  boating,"  she  said. 

"You  don't  1"  he  exclaimed  blankly;  "why,  I  only 
got  it  because  I  thought  you  would  go  out  with  me!" 

"I  don't  like  the  water,"  she  said  firmly. 

Sam  was  silent;  then  he  sighed.  "I  wish  I'd  asked 
you  before  I  bought  it.  Father  is  so  unreasonable." 

She  looked  puzzled,  for  the  connection  was  not 
obvious. 

"  Father  always  wants  things  used,"  Sam  explained. 
"  Do  you  really  dislike  boating  ?" 

"You  absurd  boy!"  she  said  laughing;  "of  course 
you  will  use  it;  don't  talk  nonsense!" 

Sam  looked  into  the  fire.  "Do  you  ever  have  the 
feeling,"  he  said  in  an  empty  voice,  "that  nothing  is 
worth  while?  I  mean,  if  you  are  disappointed  in  any 
thing?  A  feeling  as  if  you  didn't  care,  at  all,  about 
anything  ?  I  have  it  often.  A  sort  of  loss  of  appetite 
in  my  mind.  Do  you  know  it?" 

"  Do  I  know  it  ?"  she  said,  and  laughed  so  harshly 
that  the  boy  drew  back.  "Yes,  Sam;  I  know  it." 

Sam  sighed;  "I  hate  that  skiff." 

And  at  that  she  laughed  again,  but  this  time  with 
pure  gayety.  "Oh,  you  foolish  boy!"  she  said.  Then 
she  glanced  at  the  clock.  "  Sam,  I  have  some  letters 
to  write  to-night — will  you  think  I  am  very  ungracious 
if  I  ask  you  to  excuse  me?" 

72 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Sam  was  instantly  apologetic.  "I've  stayed  too 
long!  Grandfather  told  me  I  ought  never  to  come 
and  see  you — " 

"What?* 

"He  said  I  bothered  you." 

"You  don't  bother  me,"  she  protested;  "I  mean, 
when  you  talk  about  your  play  you  don't  bother  me. 
But  to-night — " 

"Of  course,"  said  Sam  simply,  and  took  himself  off 
after  one  or  two  directions  about  the  bird. 

When  the  front  door  closed  behind  him  she  went 
back  to  her  seat  by  the  lamp,  and  took  up  her  novel; 
but  her  eyes  did  not  see  the  printed  page.  Suddenly 
she  threw  the  book  down  on  the  table.  It  was  im 
possible  to  read;  Sam's  talk  had  disturbed  her  to  the 
point  of  sharp  discomfort.  What  did  old  Mr.  Wright 
mean  by  "knowing  cakes  and  ale"?  And  his  leer 
yesterday  had  been  an  offence!  Why  had  he  looked 
at  her  like  that  ?  Did  he —  ?  Was  it  possible — !  She 
wished  she  had  spoken  to  Lloyd  about  it.  But  no;  it 
couldn't  be;  it  was  only  his  queer  way;  he  was  half 
crazy,  she  believed.  And  it  would  do  no  good  to 
speak  to  Lloyd.  The  one  thing  she  must  not  do,  was 
to  let  any  annoyance  of  hers  annoy  him.  Yet  below 
her  discomfort  at  Sam's  sentimentality  and  his  grand 
father's  strange  manner  lay  a  deeper  discomfort — a 
disturbance  at  the  very  centres  of  her  life.  .  .  .  She 
was  afraid. 

She  had  been  afraid  for  a  long  time.  Even  before 
she  came  to  Old  Chester  she  was  a  little  afraid,  but  in 
Old  Chester  the  fear  was  intensified  by  the  conscious 
ness  of  having  made  a  mistake  in  coming.  Old 
Chester  was  so  far  away.  It  had  seemed  desirable 
when  she  first  thought  of  it;  it  was  so  near  Mercer 

73 


THE    AWAKENING     OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

where  business  very  often  called  him.  Besides,  New 
York,  with  its  throngs  of  people,  where  she  had  lived 
for  several  years,  had  grown  intolerable;  in  Old  Chester 
she  and  Lloyd  had  agreed  she  would  have  so  much 
more  privacy.  But  how  differently  things  had  turned 
out!  He  did  not  have  to  come  to  Mercer  nearly  so 
often  as  he  had  expected.  Those  visions  of  hers — 
which  he  had  not  discouraged — of  weekly  or  certainly 
fortnightly  visits,  had  faded  into  lengthening  periods 
of  three  weeks,  four  weeks — the  last  one  was  more 
than  six  weeks  ago.  "He  can't  leave  his  Alice!"  she 
said  angrily  to  herself;  "7  remember  the  time  when 
he  did  not  mind  leaving  her."  As  for  privacy,  the 
great  city,  with  its  hurrying  indifferent  crowds ,  was 
more  private  than  this  village  of  insistent  friendliness. 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  pressed  her  hands 
over  her  eyes ;  then  sat  up  quickly — she  must  not  cry ! 
Lloyd  hated  red  eyes.  But  oh,  she  was  afraid! — 
afraid  of  what  ?  She  had  no  answer ;  as  yet  her  fear 
was  without  a  name.  She  picked  up  her  book,  hur 
riedly;  "I'll  read,"  she  said  to  herself;  "I  won't 
think!"  But  for  a  long  time  she  did  not  turn  a  page. 

However,  by  the  time  Mr.  Pryor  came  back  from 
the  tea-party  she  was  outwardly  tranquil,  and  looked 
up  from  her  novel  to  welcome  him  and  laugh  at  his 
stories  of  his  hostess.  But  he  was  instant  to  detect 
the  troubled  background  of  her  thoughts. 

"You  are  lonely,"  he  said,  lounging  on  the  sofa  be 
side  her;  "when  that  little  boy  comes  you'll  have 
something  to  amuse  you;"  he  put  a  caressing  finger 
under  her  soft  chin. 

"I  didn't  have  that  little  boy,  but  I  had  another." 
she  said  ruefully. 

"Did  your  admirer  call?" 

74 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

She  nodded. 

"What!"  he  exclaimed,  for  her  manner  told  him. 

"He  tried  to  be  si1ly,"  she  said.  "Of  course  I 
snubbed  him.  But  it  makes  me  horribly  uncomfort 
able  somehow." 

Lloyd  Pryor  got  up  and  slowly  scratched  a  match 
under  the  mantel-piece;  he  took  a  long  time  to  light 
his  cigar.  Then  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire  regarded  his  boots. 
Helena  was  staring  straight  ahead  of  her  with  melan 
choly  eyes. — ("Do  you  ever  have  the  feeling,"  the 
boy  had  said,  "that  nothing  is  worth  while?") 

Lloyd  Pryor  looked  at  her  furtively  and  coughed. 
"I  suppose,"  he  said — and  knocked  the  ashes  from 
his  cigar  with  elaborate  care — "  I  suppose  your  adorer 
is  a  good  deal  younger  than  you?" 

She  lifted  her  head  sharply,  "Well,  yes;— what  of 
it?" 

"  Oh,  nothing;  nothing  at  all.  In  the  first  place,  the 
health  of  our  friend,  Frederick,  is  excellent.  But  if 
this  fellow  were  not  younger;  and  if  apoplexy  or  judg 
ment  should — -well;  why,  perhaps — " 

"Perhaps  what?" 

"Of  course,  Helena,  my  great  desire  is  for  your  hap 
piness;  but  in  my  position  I — I  am  not  as  free  as  I 
once  was  to  follow  my  own  inclinations.  And  if — " 

"Oh,  my  God!"  she  said  violently. 

She  fled  out  of  the  room  with  flying  feet.  As  he 
followed  her  up  the  stairs  he  heard  her  door  slam 
viciously  and  the  bolt  slip.  He  came  down,  his  face 
flushed  and  angry.  He  stood  a  long  while  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  staring  at  the  lamp  or  the  darkness 
of  the  uncurtained  window.  By  and  by  he  shook  his 
head  and  set  his  jaw  in  sullen  determination;  then  he 

«  75 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

went  up-stairs  and  knocked  softly  at  her  door.  There 
was  no  answer.  Again,  a  little  louder;  silence. 

"Nelly,"  he  said;  "Nelly,  let  me  speak  to  you — just 
a  minute?" 

Silence. 

"Nelly  I" 

Silence, 

"Damn!"  said  Lloyd  Pryor,  and  went  stealthily 
back  to  the  parlor  where  the  fire  was  out  and  the 
lamp  flickering  into  smoky  darkness. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  went  up-stairs  again. 

"How  could  you  say  it!" 

"I  didn't  mean  it,  Nelly;  it  was  only  a  joke." 
"A  joke!     Oh,  a  cruel  joke,  a  cruel  joke!" 
"You  know  I  didn't  mean  it.     Nelly,  dearest,  I 
didn't  mean  it!" 
"You  do  love  me?" 
"  I  love  you.  .  .  .  Kiss  me.  .  .  ." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"T  1  TELL,  now,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  that  Sunday 

YY  evening  when  he  and  David  came  into  the 
study  after  tea;  "I  suppose  you'd  like  me  to  tell  you 
a  story  before  you  go  to  bed?" 

"A  Bible  story?" 

"Why,  yes,"  Dr.  Lavendar  admitted,  a  little  taken 
aback. 

"No,  sir,"  said  David. 

"\ou  don't  want  a  Bible  story!" 

Th ;  little  boy  shook  his  head. 

"David,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  chuckling,  "I  think  I 
like  you." 

David  made  no  response;  his  face  was  as  blank  as 
an  Indian's.  He  sat  down  on  a  stool  by  the  fire,  and 
once  he  sighed.  Danny  had  sniffed  him,  slowly,  and 
turned  away  with  a  bored  look;  it  was  then  that  he 
sighed.  After  a  while  he  got  up  and  wandered  about 
the  room,  his  hands  gripped  in  front  of  him,  his  lips 
shut  tight.  Dr.  Lavendar  watched  him  out  of  the 
tail  of  his  eye,  but  neither  of  them  spoke.  Suddenly 
David  climbed  up  on  a  chair  and  looked  fixedly  at  a 
picture  that  hung  between  the  windows. 

"That  is  a  Bible  picture,"  Dr.  Lavendar  observed. 

"Who,"  said  David,  "is  the  gentleman  in  the 
water?" 

Pr.  Lavendar  blew  his  nose  before  answering.  Then 

77 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

he  said  that  that  was  meant  to  be  our  Saviour  when 
He  was  being  baptized.  "Up  in  the  sky,"  Dr.  Lav- 
endar  added,  "is  His  Heavenly  Father." 

There  was  silence  until  David  asked  gently,  "Is  it  a 
good  photograph  of  God?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  puffed  three  times  at  his  pipe ;  then  he 
said,  "If  you  think  the  picture  looks  like  a  kind 
Father,  then  it  is.  And  David,  I  know  some  stories 
that  are  not  Bible  stories.  Shall  I  tell  you  one?" 

"If  you  want  to,  sir,"  David  said.  Dr.  Lavendar 
began  his  tale  rather  doubtfully;  but  David  fixed  such 
interested  eyes  upon  his  face  that  he  was  nattered  into 
enlarging  upon  his  theme.  The  child  listened  breath 
lessly,  his  fascinated  eyes  travelling  once  or  twice  to 
the  clock,  then  back  to  the  kind  old  face. 

"You  were  afraid  bedtime  would  interrupt  us?" 
said  Dr.  Lavendar,  when  the  tale  was  done.  "Well, 
well;  you  are  a  great  boy  for  stories,  aren't  your" 

"  You've  talked  seven  minutes,"  said  David,  thought 
fully,  "and  you've  not  moved  your  upper  jaw  once." 

Dr.  Lavendar  gasped;  then  he  said,  meekly,  "Did 
you  like  the  story?" 

David  made  no  reply. 

"I  think,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I'll  have  another 
pipe." 

He  gave  up  trying  to  make  conversation;  instead, 
he  watched  the  clock.  Mary  had  said  that  David 
must  go  to  bed  at  eight,  and  as  the  clock  began  to 
strike,  Dr.  Lavendar,  with  some  eagerness,  opened  his 
lips  to  say  good  night  —  and  closed  them.  "Guess 
he'd  rather  run  his  own  rig,"  he  thought.  But  to  his 
relief,  at  the  last  stroke  David  got  up. 

"It's  my  bedtime,  sir." 

"So  it  isl  Well,  it  will  be  mine  after  a  while, 
78 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Good  night,  my  boy!"  Dr.  Lavendar  blinked  ner 
vously.  Young  persons  were  generally  kissed.  "I 
should  not  wish  to  be  kissed,"  he  said  to  himself,  and 
the  two  shook  hands  gravely. 

Left  alone,  he  felt  so  fatigued  he  had  to  have  that 
other  pipe.  Before  he  had  finished  it  his  senior 
warden  looked  in  at  the  study  door. 

"Come  in,  Samuel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "Samuel, 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  driven  ten  miles  on  a  corduroy  road!" 

Mr.  Wright  looked  blank;  sometimes  he  found  it 
hard  to  follow  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Sam,  young  persons  are  very  exciting." 

"  Some  of  them  are,  I  can  vouch  for  that,"  his  caller 
assured  him  grimly. 

"Come,  come!  They  are  good  for  us,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar.  "I  wish  you'd  take  a  pipe,  Sam;  it  would 
cheer  you  up." 

"I  never  smoke,  sir,"  said  Samuel  reprovingly. 

"Well,  you  miss  a  lot  of  comfort  in  life.  I've  seen 
a  good  many  troubles  go  up  in  smoke." 

Mr.  Wright  sat  down  heavily  and  sighed. 

"Sam  been  giving  you  something  to  think  about?" 
Dr.  Lavender  asked  cheerfully. 

"He  always  gives  me  something  to  think  about. 
He  is  beyond  my  comprehension!  I  may  say  candidly, 
that  I  cannot  understand  him.  What  do  you  think 
he  has  done  now?" 

"Nothing  wicked." 

^  "I  don't  know  how  you  look  at  it,"  Samuel  said, 
"but  from  my  point  of  view,  buying  prints  with  other 
people's  money  is  dangerously  near  wickedness.  This 
present  matter,  however,  is  just  imbecility.  I  told 
him  one  day  last  week  to  write  to  a  man  in  Troy,  New 
York,  about  a  bill  of  exchange.  Well,  he  wrote.  Oh, 

79 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

yes — he  wrote.  Back  comes  a  letter  from  the  man, 
enclosing  my  young  gentleman's  epistle,  with  a  line 
added" — Mr.  Wright  fumbled  in  his  breast  pocket  to 
find  the  document — "here  it  is:  'Above  remarks  about 
ships  not  understood  by  our  House.1  Will  you  look  at 
that,  sir,  for  the  'remarks  about  ships'?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  took  the  sheet  stamped  "Bank  of 
Pennsylvania,"  and  hunted  for  his  spectacles.  When 
he  settled  them  on  his  nose  he  turned  the  letter  over, 
and  read  in  young  Sam's  sprawling  hand: 

"Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium?" 

"What's  this?     I  don't  understand." 

"  Certainly  you  do  not ;  no  sensible  person  would.  I 
showed  it  to  my  young  gentleman,  and  requested  an 
explanation.  'Oh,1  he  said,  'when  you  told  me  to 
write  to  Troy,  it  made  me  think  of  those  lines.1  He 
added  that  not  wishing  to  forget  them,  he  wrote  them 
down  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  that  probably  he  used 
the  other  side  of  the  sheet  for  the  Troy  letter — 'by 
mistake.'  'Mistake,  sir!'  I  said,  'a  sufficient  number 
of  mistakes  will  send  me  out  of  business."1 

"  Samuel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  thoughtfully,  "  do  you 
recall  whose  face  it  was  that  'launched  the  thousand 
ships'  on  Troy?" 

Samuel  shook  his  head. 

"Helen's"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

The  senior  warden  frowned,  then  suddenly  under 
stood.  "Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  about  that.  Another 
evidence  of  his  folly!" 

"I've  no  doubt  you  feel  like  spanking  him,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  said  sympathetically,  "but — "  he  stopped 
short.  Sam  Wright  was  crimson. 

80 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I!  Spank  him?  I?"  He  got  up,  opening  and 
shutting  his  hands,  his  face  very  red.  The  old  min 
ister  looked  at  him  in  consternation. 

"Sam!  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you? 
Can't  a  man  have  his  joke?" 

Mr.  Wright  sat  down.  He  put  his  hand  to  his 
mouth  as  though  to  hide  some  trembling  betrayal;  his 
very  ears  were  purple. 

Dr.  Lavendar  apologized  profusely.  "I  was  only 
in  fun.  I'm  sure  you  know  that  I  meant  no  disrespect 
to  the  boy.  I  only  wanted  to  cheer  you  up." 

"I  understand,  sir;  it  is  of  no  consequence.  I — I 
had  something  else  on  my  mind.  It  is  of  no  conse 
quence."  The  color  faded,  and  his  face  fell  into  its 
usual  bleak  lines,  but  his  mouth  twitched.  A  minute 
afterwards  he  began  to  speak  with  ponderous  dignity. 
"This  love-making  business  is,  of  course,  most  morti 
fying  to  me;  and  also,  no  doubt,  annoying  to  Mrs. 
Richie.  To  begin  with,  she  is  eleven  years  older  than 
he — he  told  his  mother  so.  He  added,  if  you  please! 
that  he  hoped  to  marry  her." 

"Well!     Well!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"I  told  him,"  Mr.  Wright  continued,  "that  in  my 
very  humble  opinion  it  was  contemptible  for  a  man  to 
marry  and  allow  another  man  to  support  his  wife." 

Dr.  Lavendar  sat  up  in  shocked  dismay.     "  Samuel !" 

"I,  sir,"  the  banker  explained,  "am  his  father,  and 
I  support  him.  If  he  marries,  I  shall  have  to  support 
his  wife.  According  to  my  poor  theories  of  propriety, 
a  man  who  lets  another  man  support  his  wife  had  bet 
ter  not  have  one." 

41  But  you  ought  not  to  have  put  it  that  way,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  protested. 

"I  merely  put  the  fact,"  said  Samuel  Wright. 
Si 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 


"Furthermore,  unless  he  stops  dangling  at  her 
strings,  I  shall  stop  his  allowance.     I  shall  so  inform 
him." 

"You  surely  won't  do  such  a  foolish  thing!" 

'  '  Would  you  have  me  sit  still  ?  Not  put  up  a  single 
barrier  to  keep  him  in  bounds  ?" 

"  Samuel,  do  you  know  what  barriers  mean  to  a  colt  ?" 

Mr.  Wright  made  no  response. 

"They  mean  something  to  jump  over." 

"Possibly,"  said  Mr.  Wright  with  dignity,  "you  are, 
to  some  extent,  correct.  But  a  man  cannot  permit  his 
only  son  to  run  wild  and  founder." 

"Sam  won't  founder.  But  he  may  get  a  bad  strain. 
You'd  better  look  out.  He  is  his  father's  son." 

"I  do  not  know,  sir,  to  what  you  refer." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  Dr.  Lavendar  assured  him  easily; 
"  and  you  know  that  no  man  can  experience  unforgiv 
ing  anger,  and  not  be  crippled.  You  didn't  founder, 
Sam,  but  you  gave  yourself  a  mighty  ugly  wrench. 
Hey?  Isn't  that  so?" 

The  senior  warden  looked  perfectly  deaf;  then  he 
took  up  the  tale  again. 

"If  he  goes  on  in  his  folly  he  will  only  be  unhappy, 
and  deservedly  so.  She  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  In  stopping  him,  I  shall  only  be  keeping  him 
from  future  unhappiness." 

"Samuel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I  never  begrudge 
unhappiness  to  the  young." 

But  Mr.  Wright  was  too  absorbed  in  his  own  troubles 
to  get  any  comfort  out  of  that. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "speaking  of 
Mrs.  Richie  —  do  you  think  she'd  be  a  good  person  to 
take  this  little  David  Allison?" 

"I  don't  know  why  she  shouldn't  be,  sir,"  Samuel 
82 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

said.  "I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  her.  She  pays 
her  rent  and  goes  to  church.  Yes ;  a  very  good  person 
to  take  the  boy  off  your  hands." 

"The  rent  is  important,"  Dr.  Lavender  agreed  nod 
ding;  "but  going  to  church  doesn't  prove  anything." 

"All  good  people  go  to  church,"  the  senior  warden 
reproved  him. 

"But  all  people  who  go  to  church  are  not  good," 
Dr.  Lavendar  said  dryly. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  lets  Sam  talk  poetry  to  her,"  Sam's 
father  broke  out.  "  Stuff!  absolute  stuff!  His  mother 
sometimes  tells  me  of  it.  Why,"  he  ended  piteously, 
"half  the  time  I  can't  understand  what  it's  about;  it's 
just  bosh!" 

"  What  you  don't  understand  generally  is  bosh,  isn't 
it,  Sam?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  thoughtfully. 

"I  am  a  man  of  plain  common  sense,  sir;  I  don't 
pretend  to  anything  but  common  sense." 

"I  know  you  don't,  Samuel,  I  know  you  don't," 
Dr.  Lavendar  said  sadly;  and  the  banker,  mollified, 
accepted  the  apology. 

"On  top  of  everything  else,  he's  been  writing  a 
drama.  He  told  his  mother  so.  Writing  a  drama, 
instead  of  writing  up  his  ledgers!" 

"Of  course,  he  ought  not  to  neglect  his  work,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  agreed;  "but  play-writing  isn't  one  of  the 
seven  deadly  sins." 

"It  is  distasteful  to  me!"  Sam  senior  said  hotly; 
"most  distasteful.  I  told  his  mother  to  tell  him  so, 
but  he  goes  on  writing — so  she  says."  He  sighed,  and 
got  up  to  put  on  his  coat.  "Well;  I  must  go  home. 
I  suppose  he  has  been  inflicting  himself  upon  Mrs. 
Richie  this  evening.  If  he  stays  late,  I  shall  feel  it 
my  duty  to  speak  plainly  to  him." 

83 


THE  AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar  gave  him  a  hand  with  his  coat. 
"Gently  does  it,  Samuel,  gently  does  it  I" 

His  senior  warden  shook  his  head.  The  sense  of 
paternal  helplessness,  felt  more  or  less  by  all  fathers 
of  sons,  was  heavy  upon  him.  He  knew  in  a  bewildered 
way,  that  he  did  not  speak  the  boy's  language.  And 
yet  he  could  not  give  up  trying  to  communicate  with 
him, — shouting  at  him,  so  to  speak,  as  one  shouts  at 
a  foreigner  when  trying  to  make  oneself  understood ;  for 
surely  there  must  be  some  one  word  that  would  reach 
Sam's  mind,  some  one  touch  that  would  stir  his  heart  1 
Yet  when  he  brought  his  perplexity  to  Dr.  Lavendar, 
he  was  only  told  to  hold  his  tongue  and  keep  his  hands 
off.  The  senior  warden  said  to  himself,  miserably, 
that  he  was  afraid  Dr.  Lavendar  was  getting  old. 
"Well,  I  mustn't  bother  you,"  he  said;  "  as  for  Sam, 
I  suppose  he  will  go  his  own  gait!  I  don't  know  where 
he  gets  his  stubbornness  from.  I  myself  am  the  most 
reasonable  man  in  the  world.  All  I  ever  ask  is  to  be 
allowed  to  follow  my  own  judgment.  I  asked  his 
mother  if  obstinacy  was  a  characteristic  of  her  family, 
and  she  assured  me  it  was  not.  Certainly  Eliza  her 
self  has  no  will  of  her  own.  I  don't  think  a  good 
woman  ever  has.  And,  as  I  say,  I  never  insisted  upon 
my  own  way  in  my  life — except,  of  course,  in  matters 
where  I  knew  I  was  right." 

"Of  course,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  parting  at  the  Stuffed  Animal  House  the  next 
morning  was  dreary  enough.  The  day  broke 
heavy  with  threatening  rain.  The  man,  after  that 
brief  flaming  up  of  the  embers  of  burned-out  passion, 
had  fallen  into  a  weariness  which  he  did  not  attempt 
to  conceal.  But  the  woman — being  a  woman — still 
tried  to  warm  herself  at  the  poor  ashes,  wasting  her 
breath  in  a  sobbing  endeavor  to  blow  them  into  some 
fitful  ardor.  There  was  a  hurried  breakfast,  and  while 
waiting  for  the  stage  the  desultory  talk  that  skims 
over  dangerous  topics  for  fear  of  getting  into  discus 
sions  for  which  there  is  no  time.  And  with  it  the  con 
sciousness  of  things  that  burn  to  be  said — at  least  on 
one  side. 

"I'm  sorry  I  was  cross  last  night,"  she  murmured 
once,  under  her  breath.* 

And  he  responded  courteously,  "Oh,  not  at  all." 

But  she  pressed  him.  "You  know  it  was  only  be 
cause  I — love  you  so?  And  to  make  a  joke  of — " 

"Of  course!  Helen  a,  when  is  that  stage  due?  You 
don't  suppose  the  driver  misunderstood,  and  expects 
to  take  me  on  at  the  Tavern?" 

"No;  he  was  told  to  call  here.  .  .  .  Lloyd,  it's  just 
the  same?  You  haven't — changed?" 

"Certainly  not!  I  do  hppe  he  hasn't  forgotten  me? 
It  would  be  extremely  inconvenient." 

8s 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

She  turned  away  and  stood  looking  out  of  the  win 
dow  into  the  rain -sodden  garden.  Mr.  Pry  or  lighted 
a  cigar.  After  a  while  she  spoke  again.  "You'll 
come  soon?  I  hope  you  will  come  soon!  I'll  try  not 
to  worry  you." 

"Of  course,"  he  assured  her;  'but  I  trust  your  cook 
will  be  well  next  time,  my  dear." 

"Give  me  a  day's  notice,  and  I  will  have  another 
cook  if  Maggie  should  be  under  the  weather,"  she  an 
swered  eagerly. 

"Oh,  that  reminds  me,"  he  said,  and  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket  he  went  out  to  the  kitchen. 
When  he  came  back  he  went  at  once  to  the  window. 
"I'm  afraid  that  stage-driver  has  forgotten  me,"  he 
said,  frowning.  But  she  reassured  him  —  it  really 
wasn't  time  yet;  then  she  leaned  her  cheek  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  come  in  a  fortnight,  Lloyd? 
Come  the  first  of  May,  and  everything  shall  be  perfect. 
Will  you?" 

Laughing,  he  put  a  careless  arm  around  her,  then 
catching  sight  of  the  stage  pulling  up  at  the  gate, 
turned  away  so  quickly  that  she  staggered  a  little. 

"Ah!"  he  said  in  a  relieved  voice; — "beg  your  par 
don,  Nelly;— There's  the  stage!" 

At  the  door  he  kissed  her  hurriedly ;  but  she  followed 
him,  bareheaded,  out  into  the  mist,  catching  his  hand 
as  they  went  down  the  path. 

"Good-by!"  he  called  back  from  the  hinged  step  of 
the  stage.  "Get  along,  driver,  get  along!  I  don't 
want  to  miss  my  train  in  Mercer.  Good-by,  my  dear. 
Take  care  of  yourself." 

Helena  standing  at  the  gate,  followed  the  stage  with 
her  eyes  until  the  road  turned  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

86 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Then  she  went  back  to  the  bench  under  the  silver 
poplar  and  sat  down.  She  said  to  herself  that  she 
was  glad  he  was  gone.  His  easy  indifference  to  the 
annoyance  to  her  of  all  these  furtive  years,  seemed 
just  for  a  moment  unbearable.  He  had  not  showed  a 
glimmer  of  sympathy  for  her  position;  he  had  not  be 
trayed  the  slightest  impatience  at  Frederick's  aston 
ishing  health,  so  contrary  to  every  law  of  probability 
and  justice;  he  had  not  even  understood  how  she  felt 
at  taking  the  friendship  of  the  Old  Chester  people  on 
false  pretences — oh,  these  stupid  people  I  That  dull, 
self-satisfied,  commonplace  doctor's  wife,  so  secure,  so 
comfortable,  in  her  right  to  Old  Chester  friendships  1 
Of  course,  it  was  a  great  thing  to  be  free  from  the 
narrowness  and  prejudice  in  which  Old  Chester  was 
absolutely  hidebound.  But  Lloyd  might  at  least 
have  understood  that  in  spite  of  her  freedom  the  years 
of  delay  had  sometimes  been  a  little  hard  for  her ;  that 
it  was  cruel  that  Frederick  should  live,  and  live,  and 
live,  putting  off  the  moment  when  she  should  be  like 
— other  people;  like  that  complacent  Mrs.  King,  even; 
(oh,  how  she  detested  the  woman!)  But  Lloyd  had 
shown  no  spark  of  sympathy  or  understanding;  in 
stead  he  had  made  a  horrid  joke.  .  .  .  Suddenly  her 
eyes,  sweet  and  kind  and  shallow  as  an  animal's, 
clouded  with  pain,  and  she  burst  out  crying — but  only 
for  one  convulsive  moment.  She  could  not  cry  out 
here  in  the  garden.  She  wished  she  could  get  into 
the  house,  but  she  was  sure  that  her  eyes  were  red, 
and  the  servants  might  notice  them.  She  would  have 
to  wait  a  while.  Then  she  shivered,  for  a  sharp  wind 
blew  from  across  the  hills  where  in  the  hollows  the 
snow  still  lingered  in  grimy  drifts,  icy  on  the  edges, 
and  crumbling  and  settling  and  sinking  away  with 

87 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

every  day  of  pale  sunshine.  The  faint  fragrance  of 
wind-beaten  daffodils  reached  her,  and  she  saw  two 
crocuses,  long  gold  bubbles,  over  in  the  grass.  She 
put  the  back  of  her  hand  against  her  cheek — it  was 
hot  still;  she  must  wait  a  little  longer.  Her  chilly  dis 
comfort  made  her  angry  at  Lloyd,  as  well  as  hurt.  „  .  . 
It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  before  she  felt  sure  that  her 
eyes  would  not  betray  her  and  she  could  go  into  the 
house. 

Somehow  or  other  the  empty  day  passed;  she  had 
Lloyd's  novel  and  the  candy.  It  was  cold  enough  for 
a  fire  in  the  parlor,  and  she  lay  on  the  sofa  in  front  of 
it,  and  read  and  nibbled  her  candy  and  drowsed. 
Once,  lazily,  she  roused  herself  to  throw  some  grains 
of  incense  on  the  hot  coals.  Gradually  the  silence 
and  perfume  and  warm  sloth  pushed  the  pain  of  the 
last  twenty-four  hours  into  the  background  of  her 
mind,  where  it  lay  a  dull  ache  of  discontent.  By  and 
by  even  that  ceased  in  physical  well-being.  Her  body 
had  her  in  its  grip,  and  her  spirit  sunk  softly  into  the 
warm  and  satisfied  flesh.  She  bade  Sarah  bring  her 
dinner  into  the  parlor;  after  she  had  eaten  it  she  slept. 
When  she  awo"H  in  the  late  afternoon,  she  wished  she 
could  sleep  aga.  .  All  her  thoughts  ran  together  in  a 
lazy  blur.  Somewhere,  back  of  the  blur,  she  knew 
there  was  unhappiness;  so  this  was  best — to  lie  warm 
and  quiet  by  the  fire,  eating  candy  and  yawning  over 
her  book. 

The  next  few  days  were  given  up  to  indolence  and 
apathy.  But  at  the  end  of  the  week  the  soul  of  her 
stirred.  A  letter  from  Lloyd  came  saying  that  he 
hoped  she  had  the  little  boy  with  her,  and  this  re 
minded  her  of  her  forgotten  promise  to  Dr.  Lavendar. 

But  it  was  not  until  the  next  Monday  afternoon 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

that  she  roused  herself  sufficiently  to  give  much 
thought  to  the  matter.  Then  she  decided  to  go  down 
to  the  Rectory  and  see  the  child.  It  was  another 
dark  day  of  clouds  hanging  low,  bulging  big  and  black 
with  wind  and  ravelling  into  rain  along  the  edges. 
She  hesitated  at  the  discomfort  of  going  out,  but  she 
said  to  herself,  dully,  that  she  supposed  she  needed 
the  walk.  As  she  went  down  the  hill  her  cheeks  be 
gan  to  glow  with  the  buffet  of  the  wind,  and  her  leaf- 
brown  eyes  shone  crystal  clear  from  under  her  soft 
hair,  crinkling  in  the  mist  and  blowing  all  about  her 
smooth  forehead.  The  mist  had  thickened  to  rain  be 
fore  she  reached  the  Rectory,  and  her  cloak  was 
soaked,  which  made  Dr.  Lavendar  reproach  her  for 
her  imprudence. 

"And  where  are  your  gums?"  he  demanded.  When 
she  confessed  that  she  had  forgotten  them,  he  scolded 
her  roundly. 

"I'll  see  that  the  little  boy  wears  them  when  he 
comes  to  visit  me,"  she  said,  a  comforted  look  coming 
into  her  face. 

"David?  David  will  look  after  himself  like  a  man, 
and  keep  you  in  order,  too.  As  for  Citing  you,  my 
dear,  you'd  better  visit  him  a  little  first.  I  tell  you — 
stay  and  have  supper  with  us  to-night  ?" 

But  she  protested  that  she  had  only  come  for  a  few 
minutes  to  ask  about  David.  "I  must  go  right 
home,"  she  said  nervously. 

"No,  no.  You  can't  get  away, — oh!"  he  broke  off 
excitedly — "here  he  is!"  Dr.  Lavendar's  eagerness 
at  the  sight  of  the  little  boy  who  came  running  up  the 
garden  path,  his  hurry  to  open  the  front  door  and 
bring  him  into  the  study  to  present  him  to  Mrs. 
Richie,  fussing  and  proud  and  a  little  tremulous,  would 

89 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

have  touched  her,  if  she  had  noticed  him.  But  she  did 
not  notice  him, — the  child  absorbed  her.  She  could  not 
leave  him.  Before  she  knew  it  she  found  herself  tak 
ing  off  her  bonnet  and  saying  she  would  stay  to  tea. 

"David,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I've  got  a  bone  in 
my  leg;  so  you  run  and  get  me  a  clean  pocket-handker 
chief." 

"Can  I  go  up-stairs  like  a  crocodile?"  said  David. 

"Certainly,  if  it  affords  you  the  slightest  personal 
satisfaction,"  Dr.  Lavendar  told  him;  and  while  the 
little  boy  crawled  laboriously  on  his  stomach  all  the 
way  up-stairs,  Dr.  Lavendar  talked  about  him.  He 
said  he  thought  the  child  had  been  homesick  just  at 
first;  he  had  missed  his  sister  Janey.  "He  told  me 
*  Janey'  gave  him  'forty  kisses'  every  night,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar;  "I  thought  that  told  a  story — "  At  that 
moment  the  crocodile,  holding  a  handkerchief  between 
his  teeth,  came  rapidly,  head  foremost,  down -stairs. 
Dr.  Lavendar  raised  a  cautioning  hand; — "Mustn't 
talk  about  him,  now!" 

There  was  a  quality  in  that  evening  that  was  new 
to  Helena;  it  was  dull,  of  course; — how  very  dull 
Lloyd  would  have  found  it!  A  childlike  old  man  ask 
ing  questions  with  serious  simplicity  of  a  little  boy 
who  was  full  of  his  own  important  interests  and 
anxieties; — the  feeding  of  Danny,  and  the  regretful 
wonder  that  in  heaven,  the  little  dog  would  not  be 
"let  in." 

"Who  said  he  wouldn't?"  Dr.  Lavendar  demanded, 
fiercely,  while  Danny  yawned  with  embarrassment  at 
hearing  his  own  name. 

"You  read  about  heaven  in  the  Bible,"  David  said, 
suddenly  shy;  "an'  it  said  outside  were  dogs; — an* 
some  other  animals  I  can't  remember  the  names  of." 

90 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar  explained  with  a  twinkle  that  shared 
with  his  visitor  the  humor  of  those  "other  animals" 
itemized  in  the  Revelations.  It  was  a  very  mild 
humor;  everything  was  mild  at  the  Rectory;  the  very 
air  seemed  gentle!  There  was  no  apprehension,  no 
excitement,  no  antagonism;  only  the  placid  common 
place  of  goodness  and  affection.  Helena  could  not  re 
member  such  an  evening  in  all  her  life.  And  the 
friendship  between  youth  and  age  was  something  she 
had  never  dreamed  of.  She  saw  David  slip  from  his 
chair  at  table,  and  run  around  to  Dr.  Lavendar's  side 
to  reach  up  and  whisper  in  his  ear, — oh,  if  he  would 
but  put  his  cheek  against  hers,  and  whisper  in  her 
ear! 

The  result  of  that  secret  colloquy  was  that  David 
knelt  down  in  front  of  the  dining-room  fire,  and  made 
a  slice  of  smoky  toast  for  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"After  supper  you  might  roast  an  apple  for  Mrs. 
Richie,"  the  old  minister  suggested.  And  David's 
eyes  shone  with  silent  joy.  With  anxious  deliberation 
he  picked  out  an  apple  from  the  silver  wire  basket  on 
the  sideboard;  and  when  they  went  into  the  study, he 
presented  a  thread  to  Mrs.  Richie. 

"Tie  it  to  the  stem,"  he  commanded.  "You're 
pretty  slow,"  he  added  gently,  and  indeed  her  white 
fingers  blundered  with  the  unaccustomed  task.  When 
she  had  accomplished  it,  David  wound  the  other  end 
of  the  thread  round  a  pin  stuck  in  the  high  black 
mantel-shelf.  The  apple  dropped  slowly  into  place 
before  the  bars  of  the  grate,  and  began — as  everybody 
who  has  been  a  child  knows — to  spin  slowly  round, 
and  then,  slowly  back  again.  David,  squatting  on 
the  rug,  watched  it  in  silence.  But  Mrs.  Richie  would 
not  let  him  be  silent.  She  leaned  forward,  eager  to 

7  QI 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

touch  him — his  shoulders,  his  hair,  his  cheek,  hot  with 
the  fire. 

"Won't  you  come  and  sit  in  my  lap?" 

David  glanced  at  Dr.  Lavendar  as  though  for  ad 
vice;  then  got  up  and  climbed  on  to  Mrs.  Richie's 
knee,  keeping  an  eye  on  the  apple  that  bobbed  against 
the  grate  and  sizzled. 

"Will  you  make  me  a  little  visit,  dear?" 

David  sighed.  "I  seem  to  visit  a  good  deal;  I'd 
like  to  belong  somewhere." 

"Oh,  you  will,  one  of  these  days,"  Dr.  Lavendar 
assured  him. 

"I'd  like  to  belong  to  you,"  David  said  thought 
fully. 

Dr.  Lavendar  beamed,  and  looked  proudly  at  Mrs. 
Richie. 

"Because,"  David  explained,  "I  love  Goliath." 

"Oh,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  blankly. 

"It's  blackening  on  one  side,"  David  announced, 
and  slid  down  from  Mrs.  Richie's  knee  to  set  the  apple 
spinning  again. 

"The  red  cheek  is  beginning  to  crack,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar,  deeply  interested;  "smells  good,  doesn't  it, 
Mrs.  Richie?" 

"Have  you  any  little  boys  and  girls?"  David  asked, 
watching  the  apple. 

"Come  and  climb  on  my  knee  and  I'll  tell  you," 
she  bribed  him. 

He  came  reluctantly ;  the  apple  was  spinning  briskly 
now  under  the  impulse  of  a  woolly  burst  of  pulp 
through  the  red  skin. 

"Have  you?"  he  demanded. 

"No,  David." 

Here  his  interest  in  Mrs.  Richie's  affairs  flagged,  for 
92 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

the  apple  began  to  steam  deliciously.  Dr.  Lavendar, 
watching  her  with  his  shrewd  old  eyes,  asked  her  one 
or  two  questions;  but,  absorbed  in  the  child,  she  an 
swered  quite  at  random.  She  put  her  cheek  against 
his  hair,  and  whispered,  softly:  "Turn  round,  and  I'll 
give  you  forty  kisses."  Instantly  David  moved  his 
head  away.  The  snub  was  so  complete  that  she 
looked  over  at  Dr.  Lavendar,  hoping  he  had  not  seen 
it.  "I  once  knew  a  little  baby,"  she  said,  trying  to 
hide  her  embarrassment,  "that  had  curly  hair  the 
color  of  yours.' 

"It  has  begun  to  drip,"  said  David  briefly.  "Does 
Alice  live  at  your  house  ?" 

"Alice!" 

"The  gentleman  —  your  brother  —  said  Alice  was 
nineteen.  I  thought  maybe  she  lived  at  your  house." 

"No,  dear.     Look  at  the  apple!" 

David  looked.     "  Why  not  ?" 

"Why,  she  lives  at  her  own  house,  dear  little  boy." 

"Does  she  pay  you  a  visit?" 

"No.  David,  I  think  the  apple  is  done.  Why 
didn't  you  roast  one  for  Dr.  Lavendar?" 

"I  had  to  do  it  for  you  because  you're  company. 
Why  doesn't  she  pay  you  a  visit?" 

"Because — oh,  for  a  good  many  reasons.  I'm  afraid 
I  must  go  home  now." 

The  child  slipped  from  her  knee  with  unflattering 
haste.  "You've  got  to  eat  your  apple  first,"  he  said, 
and  ran  to  get  a  saucer  and  spoon.  With  great  care 
the  thread  was  broken  and  the  apple  secured.  Then 
David  sat  calmly  down  in  front  of  her  to  watch  her 
eat  it;  but  after  the  first  two  or  three  mouthfuls,  Dr. 
Lavendar  had  pity  on  her,  and  the  smoky  skin  and 
the  hard  core  were  banished  to  the  dining-room. 

93 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

While  the  little  boy  was  carrying  them  off,  she  said 
eagerly,  that  she  wanted  him. 

"You'll  let  me  have  him?" 

"I'm  going  to  keep  him  for  a  while." 

"Oh,  do  give  him  to  me!"  she  urged. 

"Not  yet.  You  come  here  and  see  him.  I  won't 
make  ye  eat  a  roast  apple  every  time."  He  smiled  at 
her  as  he  spoke,  for  she  was  clasping  her  hands,  and 
her  eyes  were  eager  and  shining. 

" I  must  have  him !     I  must!" 

"No  use  teasing — here  comes  Dr.  King.  He'll  tell 
you  I'm  an  obstinate  old  man.  Hey,  Willy,  my  boy! 
Ain't  I  an  obstinate  old  man?" 

"You  are,"  said  William.  He  had  walked  in  un 
announced,  in  good  Old  Chester  fashion,  and  stood 
smiling  in  the  doorway. 

"Oh,  plead  my  cause!"  she  said,  turning  to  him. 

"Of  course  I  will.  But  it  isn't  much  use;  we  are 
all  under  his  heel." 

They  were  standing,  for  Mrs.  Richie  had  said  she 
must  go,  when  Dr.  Lavendar  had  an  idea:  "Would 
you  mind  seeing  her  home,  Willy  ?"  he  said,  in  an  aside. 
"I  was  going  to  send  Mary,  but  this  is  a  chance  to  get 
better  acquainted  with  her — if  you're  not  too  tired." 

"Of  course  I'm  not  too  tired,"  the  doctor  said 
eagerly,  and  went  back  to  the  fireside  where  Mrs. 
Richie  had  dropped  on  her  knees  before  David.  "  I'm 
going  to  walk  home  with  you,"  he  announced.  She 
looked  up  with  a  quick  protest,  but  he  only  laughed. 
"If  we  let  you  go  alone,  your  brother  will  think  we 
have  no  manners  in  Old  Chester.  Besides  I  need  the 
walk."  And  when  she  had  fastened  her  cloak,  and 
kissed  David  good  night,  and  thrown  Dr.  Lavendar  an 
appealing  look,  William  gave  her  his  hand  down  the 

94 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

two  steps  from  the  front  door,  and  then  made  her 
take  his  arm.  Dr.  Lavendar  had  provided  a  lantern, 
and  as  its  shifting  beam  ran  back  and  forth  across  the 
path  the  doctor  bade  her  be  careful  where  she  stepped. 
"These  flag-stones  are  abominably  rough, "he  said;  "I 
never  noticed  it  before.  And  one  can't  see  in  the 
dark." 

But  what  with  the  lantern  and  the  stars,  there  was 
light  enough  for  William  King  to  see  the  stray  curl 
that  blew  across  her  forehead — brown,  was  it?  And 
yet,  William  remembered  that  in  daylight  her  hair  was 
too  bright  to  be  called  brown.  He  was  solicitous  lest 
he  was  making  her  walk  too  fast.  "I  don't  want 
your  brother  to  think  we  don't  take  care  of  you  in 
Old  Chester,"  he  said;  and  in  the  starlight  he  could 
see  that  her  face  flushed  a  little.  Then  he  repeated 
some  Old  Chester  gossip,  which  amused  her  very 
much — and  held  his  breath  to  listen  to  the  delicious 
gayety  of  her  laugh. 

"There  ought  to  be  a  better  path  for  you  up  the 
hill,"  he  said;  "I  must  speak  to  Sam  Wright  about 
it."  And  carefully  he  flung  the  noiseless  zigzag  of 
light  back  and  forth  in  front  of  her,  and  told  some 
more  stories  that  he  might  hear  that  laugh  again. 

When  he  left  her  at  her  own  door  she  said  with  a 
sudden  impetuous  timidity,  "Dr.  King,  please  make 
Dr.  Lavendar  give  me  the  little  boy!" 

"I  will!"  he  said,  and  laughed  at  her  radiant  face. 

It  seemed  to  the  doctor  as  he  went  down  the  hill, 
that  he  had  had  a  most  delightful  evening.  He  could 
not  recollect  what  they  had  talked  about,  but  he 
knew  that  they  had  agreed  on  every  point.  "A  very 
intelligent  lady,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"  William,"  said  Martha,  looking  up  from  her  mend- 

95 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

ing  as  he  entered  the  sitting-room,  "did  you  remem 
ber  to  tell  Davis  that  the  kitchen  sink  leaks?" 

"Oh!"  said  the  doctor  blankly;  "well — I'll  tell  him 
in  the  morning."  Then,  smiling  vaguely,  he  dropped 
down  into  his  shabby  old  easy -chair,  and  watched 
Martha's  darning-needle  plod  in  and  out.  "Martha," 
he  said  after  a  while,  "what  shade  would  you  call 
your  hair  if  it  was — we:l,  kind  of  brighter?" 

"Whaif  said  Martha,  looking  at  him  over  her 
spectacles;  she  put  up  her  hard  capable  hand  and 
touched  her  hair  softly,  as  if  she  had  forgotten  it. 
"My  hair  used  to  be  a  real  chestnut.  Do  you  mean 
chestnut?" 

"I  guess  I  do.     It's  a  pretty  color." 

Martha  looked  at  him  with  a  queer  shyness  in  her 
married  eyes,  then  tossed  her  head  a  little  and  thrust 
her  darning  -  needle  into  the  gray  stocking  with  a 
jaunty  air.  'That's  what  you  used  to  say,"  she  said. 
After  a  while,  noticing  his  tired  lounge  in  the  old 
chair,  she  said  kindly,  "Why  did  you  stay  so  long  at 
Dr.  Lavendar's,  Willy?  You  look  tired.  Do  go  to 
bed  ' 

"Oh,"  William  explained,  "I  didn't  stay  very  long; 
he  asked  me  to  see  Mrs.  Richie  home.  She  had  taken 
tea  with  him." 

Martha's  face  suddenly  hardened.  "Oh,"  she  said 
coldly.  Then,  after  a  short  silence:  "Mrs.  Richie's 
hair  is  too  untidy  for  my  taste." 

When  Dr.  Lavendar  went  back  into  the  study  he 
found  David  curled  up  in  an  arm-chair  in  profound 
meditation. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about  so  hard?"  Dr.  Lav 
endar  said. 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Yesterday.     After  church." 

"Thinking  about  yesterday?"  Dr.  Lavendar  re 
peated  puzzled.  David  offered  no  explanation,  and 
the  old  minister  searched  his  memory  for  any  happen 
ing  of  interest  after  church  .  .  .  but  found  none.  He 
had  come  out  of  the  vestry  and  in  the  church  David 
had  joined  him,  following  him  down  the  aisle  to  the 
door  and  waiting  close  behind  him  through  the  usual 
Sunday  greetings:  "Morning,  Sam!"  "Good  morning, 
Dr.  Lavendar."  "How  are  you,  Ezra?  How  many 
drops  of  water  make  the  mighty  ocean,  Ezra?"  "The 
amount  of  water  might  be  estimated  in  tons,  Dr.  Lav 
endar,  but  I  doubt  whether  the  number  of  minims 
could  be  compu —  "Hullo!  there's  Horace;  how 
d'ye  do,  Horace?  How's  Jim  this  morning?" — and 
so  on;  the  old  friendly  greetings  of  all  the  friendly 
years.  .  .  .  Surely  nothing  in  them  to  make  the  child 
thoughtful  ? 

Suddenly  David  got  up  and  came  and  stood  beside 
him. 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"N.  or  M.,"  Dr.  Lavendar  replied. 

"What,  sir?"  said  David,  in  a  troubled  voice;  and 
Dr.  Lavendar  was  abashed. 

"My  name  is  Edward  Lavendar,  sir.  Why  do  you 
want  to  know?" 

"Because,  yesterday  everybody  said  'Dr.  Lavendar.' 
I  didn't  think  Doctor  could  be  your  front  name.  All 
the  other  people  had  front  names." 

"Well,  I  have  a  front  name,  David,  but  you  see, 
there's  nobody  in  Old  Chester  to  call  me  by  it."  He 
sighed  slightly,  and  then  he  smiled.  "The  last  one 
who  called  me  by  my  front  name  is  dead,  David. 
John  was  his  name.  I  called  him  Johnny." 

97 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

David  looked  at  him  with  wide  eyes,  silent.  Dr. 
Lavendar  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and  stared 
for  a  minute  at  the  fire. 

"I  should  think,"  David  said  sadly,  "God  would 
be  discouraged  to  have  everybody  He  makes,  die." 

At  that  Dr.  Lavendar  came  quickly  out  of  his 
reverie.  "Oh,  it's  better  that  way,"  he  said,  cheer 
fully.  "One  of  these  days  I'll  tell  you  why.  What 
do  you  say  to  a  game  of  dominoes?" 

David  squeaked  with  pleasure.  Then  he  paused  to 
say:  "Is  that  lady,  Alice's  aunt?"  and  Dr.  Lavendar 
had  to  recall  who  "Alice"  was  before  he  could  say 
"yes."  Then  a  little  table  was  pulled  up,  and  the 
dominoes  were  poured  out  upon  it,  with  a  joyful  clat 
ter.  For  the  next  half  hour  they  were  both  very 
happy.  In  the  midst  of  it  David  remarked,  thought 
fully:  "There  are  two  kinds  of  aunts.  One  is  bugs. 
She  is  the  other  kind."  And  after  Dr.  Lavendar  had 
stopped  chuckling  they  discussed  the  relative  merits 
of  standing  the  dominoes  upright,  or  putting  them  on 
their  sides,  and  Dr.  Lavendar  built  his  fence  in  alter 
nate  positions,  which  was  very  effective.  It  was  so 
exciting  that  bedtime  was  a  real  trial  to  them  both. 
At  the  last  stroke  of  eight  David  clenched  both  hands. 

"Perhaps  the  clock  is  fast?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  compared  it  with  his  watch,  and 
shook  his  head  sympathetically.  "No;  just  right. 
Tumble  'em  back  into  the  box.  Good  night." 

"Good  night,  sir,"  David  said,  and  stood  hesitating. 
The  color  came  and  went  in  his  face,  and  he  twisted 
the  top  button  of  his  jacket  with  little  nervous  fingers. 

"Good  night,"  Dr.  Lavendar  repeated,  significantly. 

But  still  David  hesitated.  Then  he  came  and 
stood  close  beside  Dr.  Lavendar.  "Lookee  here,"  he 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

said  tremulously,  "/'//  call  you  Edward.  I'd  just  as 
lieves  as  not." 

There  was  a  full  minute's  silence.  Then  Dr.  Lav- 
endar  said,  "I  thank  you,  David  That  is  a  kind 
thought.  But  no;  I  like  Dr.  Lavendar  as  a  name.  So 
many  boys  and  girls  have  called  me  that,  that  I'm 
fond  of  it.  And  I  like  to  have  you  use  it.  But  I'm 
much  obliged  to  you,  David.  Now  I  guess  we'll  say 
good  night.  Hey?" 

The  child's  face  cleared;  he  drew  a  deep  breath  as  if 
he  had  accomplished  something.  Then  he  said  good 
night,  and  trudged  off  to  bed.  Dr.  Lavendar  looked 
after  him  tenderly. 


CHAPTER  X 

A3RIL  brightened  into  May  before  David  came  to 
live  at  the  Stuffed  Animal  House.  Dr.  Lavendar 
had  his  own  reasons  for  the  delay,  which  he  did  not 
share  with  anybody,  but  they  resulted  in  a  sort  of  in 
timacy,  which  Helena,  eager  for  the  child,  could  not 
refuse 

"He  needs  c'othes,"  Dr.  Lavendar  put  her  off;  "I 
can't  let  him  visit  you  till  Mary  gets  his  wardrobe  to 
rights." 

"Oh,  let  me  get  his  little  things." 

— Now,  who  would  have  supposed  that  Dr.  Lavendar 
was  so  deep!  To  begin  with,  he  was  a  man,  and  an 
old  man,  at  that ;  and  with  never  a  chick  or  a  child  of 
his  own.  How  did  he  know  what  a  child's  little 
clothes  are  to  a  woman? — "Well,"  he  said,  "suppose 
you  make  him  a  set  of  night -drawers." 

Helena's  face  fell.  "I  don't  know  how  to  sew.  I 
thought  I  could  buy  what  he  needed." 

"No;  he  has  enough  bought  things,  but  if  you  will 
be  so  kind,  my  dear,  as  to  make — " 

"I  will!"  she  proimV  t,  eagerly,  and  Dr.  Lavendar 
said  he  would  bring  David  up  to  be  measured. 

Her  sewing  was  a  pathetic  blunder  of  haste  and 
happiness;  it  brought  Dr.  Lavendar  and  David  up  to 
the  Stuffed  Animal  House  very  often,  "to  try  on." 
David's  coming  was  always  a  delight,  but  the  old  man 

100 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

fretted  her,  somehow; — he  was  so  good.  She  said  so  to 
William  King,  who  laughed  at  the  humor  of  a  good 
woman's  objection  to  goodness.  The  incongruity  of 
such  a  remark  from  her  lips  was  as  amusing  as  a 
child's  innocently  base  comment. 

William  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  drawing  up  and 
calling  out  ''good  morning"  whenever  he  and  his 
mare  passed  her  gate.  Mrs.  Richie's  lack  of  common 
sense  seemed  to  delight  the  sensible  William.  When 
he  was  with  her,  he  was  in  the  frame  of  mind  that 
finds  everything  a  joke.  It  was  a  demand  for  the 
eternal  child  in  her,  to  which,  involuntarily,  she  re 
sponded.  She  laughed  at  him,  and  even  teased  him 
about  his  shabby  buggy  with  a  gayety  that  mada  him 
tingle  with  pleasure.  She  used  to  wonder  at  herself 
as  she  did  it — conscious  and  uneasy,  and  resolving 
every  time  that  she  would  not  do  it  again.  She  had 
none  of  this  lightness  with  any  one  else.  With  Dr. 
Lavendar  she  was  reserved  to  the  point  of  coldness, 
and  with  young  Sam  Wright,  matter-of-fact  to  a  dis 
couraging  degree. 

But  she  did  not  see  Sam  often  in  the  next  month. 
It  had  occurred  to  Sam  senior  that  Adam  Smith  might 
cure  the  boy's  taste  for '  bosh ' ;  so,  by  his  father's  orders, 
his  Sunday  afternoons  were  devoted  to  The  Wealth 
of  Nations.  As  for  his  evenings,  his  grandfather  took 
possession  of  them.  Benjamin  Wright's  proposal  that 
the  young  man  should  go  away  for  a  while,  had  fallen 
flat;  Sam  replying,  frankly,  t  at  he  did  not  care  to 
leave  Old  Chester.  As  Mr.  Wright  was  not  prepared 
to  give  any  reasons  for  urging  his  plan,  he  dropped  it; 
and  instead  on  Sunday  nights  detained  his  grandson 
to  listen  to  this  or  that  drama  or  poem  until  the 
boy  could  hardly  hide  his  impatience.  When  he  was 

101 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

free  and  could  hurry  down  the  hill  road,  as  often  as  not 
the  lights  were  out  in  the  Stuffed  Animal  House,  and 
he  could  only  linger  at  the  gate  and  wonder  which  was 
her  window.  But  when  he  did  find  her,  he  had  an 
evening  of  passionate  delight,  even  though  occasionally 
she  snubbed  him,  lazily. 

"Do  you  go  out  in  your  skiff  much?"  she  asked 
once;  and  when  he  answered,  "No;  I  filled  it  with 
stones  and  sunk  it,  because  you  didn't  like  rowing," 
she  spoke  •  to  him  with  a  sharpness  that  surprised 
herself,  though  it  produced  no  effect  whatever  on 
Sam. 

"You  are  a  very  foolish  boy!  What  difference  does 
it  make  whether  I  like  rowing  or  not  ?" 

Sam  smiled  placidly,  and  said  he  had  had  hard 
work  to  get  stones  enough  to  fill  the  skiff.  "I  put 
them  in,"  he  explained,  "and  then  I  sculled  out 
in  mid -stream,  and  scuttled  her.  I  had  to  swim 
ashore.  It  was  night,  and  the  water  was  like  flow 
ing  ink,  and  there  was  a  star  in  every  ripple,"  he 
ended  dreamily. 

"Sam,"  she  said,  "if  you  don't  stop  being  so  foolish, 
I  won't  let  you  come  and  see  me." 

"Am  I  a  nuisance  about  my  drama?"  he  asked  with 
alarm. 

"Not  about  your  drama,"  she  said  significantly; 
but  Sam  was  too  happy  to  draw  any  unflattering  de 
ductions. 

When  old  Mr.  Wright  discovered  that  his  stratagem 
of  keeping  his  grandson  late  Sunday  evenings  had  not 
checked  the  boy's  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Richie,  he 
tried  a  more  direct  method.  "You  young  ass!  Can't 
you  keep  away  from  that  house  ?  She  thinks  you  are 
a  nuisance  I" 

102 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"No,  grandfather,"  Sam  assured  him  earnestly, 
"she  doesn't.  I  asked  her,  and  she  said — " 

"Asked  her?" roared  the  old  man.  " Do  you  expect 
a  female  to  tell  the  truth?'*  And  then  he  swore 
steadily  for  a  minute.  "I'll  have  to  see  Lavendar," 
he  said  despairingly. 

But  Mr.  Wright's  cause  was  aided  by  some  one 
stronger  than  Dr.  Lavendar.  Helena's  attention  was 
so  fixed  on  the  visitor  who  was  coming  to  the  Stuffed 
Animal  House  that  Sam's  conversation  ceased  to 
amuse  her.  Those  little  night-drawers  on  which  she 
pricked  her  fingers  interested  her  a  thousand  times 
more  than  did  his  dramatic  visions.  They  interested 
her  so  much  that  sometimes  she  could  almost  forget 
that  Lloyd  Pryor's  visit  was  delayed.  For  though  it 
was  the  first  of  May,  he  had  not  come  again.  "  I  am 
so  busy,"  he  wrote;  "it  is  impossible  for  me  to  get 
away.  I  suppose  David  will  have  his  sling  all  ready 
for  me  when  I  do  arrive?" 

Helena  was  sitting  on  the  porch  with  her  clumsy 
needlework  when  Sarah  brought  her  the  letter,  and 
after  she  had  read  it,  she  tore  it  up  angrily.  "  He  was 
in  Mercer  a  week  ago;  I  know  he  was,  because  there 
is  always  that  directors'  meeting  on  the  last  Thursday 
in  April,  so  he  must  have  been  there.  And  he  wouldn't 
come!"  Down  in  the  orchard  the  apple-trees  were  in 
blossom,  and  when  the  wind  stirred,  the  petals  fell  in 
sudden  warm  white  showers;  across  the  sky,  from 
west  to  east,  was  a  path  of  mackerel  clouds.  It  was 
a  pastel  of  spring  —  a  dappled  sky,  apple  blossoms, 
clover,  and  the  river's  sheen  of  gray -blue.  All  about 
her  were  the  beginnings  of  summer  —  the  first  ex 
quisite  green  of  young  leaves;  oaks,  still  white  and 
crumpled  from  their  furry  sheaths;  horse-chestnuts, 

103 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

each  leaf  drooping  from  its  stem  like  a  hand  bending 
at  the  wrist;  a  thin  flicker  of  elm  buds,  still  distrustful 
of  the  sun.  Later,  this  delicate  dance  of  foliage  would 
thicken  so  that  the  house  would  be  in  shadow,  and 
the  grass  under  the  locusts  on  either  side  of  the  front 
door  fade  into  thin,  mossy  growth.  But  just  now  it 
was  overflowing  with  May  sunshine.  "Oh,  he  would 
enjoy  it  if  he  would  only  come,"  she  thought.  Well, 
anyhow,  David  would  like  it;  and  she  began  to  fell 
her  seam  with  painstaking  unaccustomed  fingers. 

The  child  was  to  come  that  day.  Half  a  dozen  times 
she  dropped  her  work  to  run  to  the  gate,  and  shielding 
her  eyes  with  her  hand  looked  down  the  road  to  Old 
Chester;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  the  jogging  hood  of 
the  buggy.  Had  anything  happened?  Was  he  sick? 
Had  Dr.  Lavendar  changed  his  mind  f  Her  heart 
stood  still  at  that.  She  debated  whether  or  not  she 
should  go  down  to  the  Rectory  and  find  out  what  the 
delay  meant  ?  Then  she  called  to  one  of  the  servants 
who  was  crossing  the  hall,  that  she  wondered  why  the 
little  boy  who  was  to  visit  her,  did  not  come.  Her 
face  cleared  at  the  reminder  that  the  child  went  to 
school  in  the  morning. 

"Why,  of  course!  I  suppose  he  will  have  to  go 
every  morning  ?"  she  added  ruefully. 

"My,"  Maggie  said  smiling,  "you're  wan  that 
ought  to  have  six!" 

Mrs.  Richie  smiled,  too.  Then  she  said  to  herself 
that  she  wouldn't  let  him  go  to  school  every  day;  she 
was  sure  he  was  not  strong  enough.  She  ventured 
something  like  this  to  Dr.  Lavendar  when,  about  four 
o'clock,  Goliath  and  the  buggy  finally  appeared. 

"Strong  enough?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "He's 
strong  enough  to  study  a  great  deal  harder  than  he 

104 


SAM      WRIGHT       DECLARES      HIS      LOVE      TO      HELENA      RICHIE 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

does,  the  little  rascal!  I'm  afraid  Rose  Knight  will 
spoil  him;  she's  almost  as  bad  as  Ellen  Bailey.  You 
didn't  know  our  Ellen,  did  ye?  No;  she'd  married 
Spangler  and  gone  out  West  before  you  came  to  us. 
Ah,  a  dear  woman,  but  wickedly  unselfish.  Rose 
Knight  took  the  school  when  Spangler  took  Ellen/' 
Then  he  added  one  or  two  straight  directions:  Every 
school-day  David  was  to  come  to  the  Rectory  for  his 
dinner,  and  to  Collect  Class  on  Saturdays.  "You  will 
have  to  keep  him  at  his  catechism,'1  said  Dr.  Laven- 
dar;  "he  is  weak  on  the  long  answers." 

"Oh!"  Helena  said,  rather  startled;  "you  don't 
want  me  to  teach  him — things  like  that,  do  you?" 

"Things  like  what?" 

"The  catechism,  and — to  pray,  and — " 

Dr.  Lavendar  smiled.  "You  can  teach  folks  to  say 
their  prayers,  my  dear,  but  nobody  can  teach  them  to 
pray.  Only  life  does  that.  But  David's  been  taught 
his  prayers;  you  just  let  him  say  'em  a,t  your  knee, 
that's  all." 

David,  dismissed  to  the  garden  while  his  elders 
talked,  had  discovered  the  rabbit-hutch,  and  could 
hardly  tear  himself  away  from  it  to  say  good-by. 
But  when  Dr.  Lavendar  called  out  that  he  was  going, 
the  little  boy's  heart  misgave  him.  He  came  and 
stood  by  the  step  of  the  buggy,  and  picked  with 
nervous  fingers  at  the  dry  mud  on  the  wheel — for  Dr. 
Lavendar's  buggy  was  not  as  clean  as  it  should  have 
been. 

"Well,  David?"  Dr.  Lavendar  said  cheerfully.  The 
child  with,  his  chin  sunk  on  his  breast  said  something. 
"What?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

David  mumbled  a  word  or  two  in  a  voice  that 
seemed  to  come  from  his  stomach;  it  sounded  like, 

105 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Like  you  best."  But  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  hear  it, 
and  David  ran  swiftly  back  to  the  rabbits.  There 
Helena  found  him,  gazing  through  two  large  tears  at 
the  opal-eyed  pair  behind  the  wooden  bars.  Their 
white  shell-like  ears  wavered  at  her  step,  and  they 
paused  in  their  nibbling;  then  went  on  again  with 
timid,  jewel-like  glances  in  her  direction. 

Helena,  at  the  sight  of  those  two  tears,  knelt  down 
beside  the  little  boy,  eager  to  be  sympathetic.  But 
he  did  not  notice  her,  and  by  and  by  the  tears  dried 
up.  After  she  had  tried  to  make  him  talk; — of  Dr. 
Lavendar,  of  school,  of  his  old  home; — without  draw 
ing  anything  more  from  him  than  "yes  ma'am,"  or 
"no  ma'am,"  she  gave  it  up  and  waited  until  he 
should  be  tired  of  the  rabbits.  The  sun  was  warm, 
the  smell  of  the  crushed  dock  leaves  heavy  in  the 
sheltered  corner  behind  the  barn;  it  was  so  silent  that 
they  could  hear  the  nibbling  of  the  two  prisoners,  who 
kept  glancing  at  them  with  apprehensive  eyes  that 
gleamed  with  pale  red  fires.  David  sighed  with  joy. 

"What  are  their  names?"  he  said  at  last  in  a  low 
voice. 

"They  haven't  any  names;  you  can  name  them  if 
you  like.'* 

"I  shall  call  them  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,"  he  said 
with  decision.  And  then  fell  silent  again. 

"You  came  to  Old  Chester  in  the  stage  with  Mr. 
Pryor,"  she  said  after  a  while;  "he  told  me  you  were 
a  very  nice  little  boy." 

"How  did  he  know?"  demanded  David. 

"He  is  very  nice  himself,"  Helena  said  smiling. 

David  meditated.     "  Is  that  gentleman  my  enemy  ?" 

"Of  course  not!  he  isn't  anybody's  enemy,"  she 
told  him  reprovingly. 

106 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

David  turned  silently  to  his  rabbits. 

"Why  did  you  think  he  was  your  enemy?"  she  per 
sisted. 

"I  only  just  hoped  he  wasn't;  I  don't  want  to  love 
him." 

"What!" 

"If  he  was  my  enemy,  I'd  have  to  love  him,  you 
know,"  David  explained  patiently. 

Helena  in  her  confused  astonishment  knew  not 
what  to  reply.  She  stammered  something  about  that 
being  wrong;  of  course  David  must  love  Mr.  Pryor! 

"They  ought  to  have  fresh  water,"  David  inter 
rupted  thoughtfully;  and  Helena  had  to  reach  into 
the  hutch  for  a  battered  tin  pan. 

She  watched  him  run  to  the  stable  and  come  back, 
holding  the  pan  in  both  hands  and  walking  very 
slowly  under  the  mottled  branches  of  the  button- 
woods;  at  every  step  the  water  splashed  over  the 
rusty  brim,  and  the  sunshine,  catching  and  flickering 
in  it,  was  reflected  in  a  rippling  gleam  across  his 
serious  face. 

All  that  afternoon  he  permitted  her  to  follow  him 
about.  He  was  gently  polite  when  she  spoke  to  him, 
but  he  hardly  noticed  her  until,  as  they  went  down 
through  the  orchard,  his  little  hand  tightened  sud 
denly  on  hers,  and  he  pressed  against  her  skirts. 

"Are  there  snakes  in  this  grass?"  he  asked  timor 
ously.  "A  snake,"  he  added,  looking  up  at  her  con 
fidingly,  "is  the  only  insect  I  am  afraid  of." 

She  stooped  down  and  cuddled  him  reassuringly, 
and  he  rewarded  her  by  snuggling  up  against  her  like 
a  friendly  puppy.  She  was  very  happy.  As  it  grew 
dusk  and  cool,  and  all  the  sky  was  yellow  behind  the 
black  line  of  the  hills,  she  lured  him  into  the  house, 

8  107 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

and  watched  him  eat  his  supper,  forgetting  to  eat  her 
own. 

When  she  took  him  up-stairs  to  bed,  Dr.  Lavendar's 
directions  came  back  to  her  with  a  slight  shock — she 
must  hear  him  say  his  prayers.  How  was  she  to  in 
troduce  the  subject?  The  embarrassed  color  burned 
in  her  cheeks  as  she  helped  him  undress  and  tried  to 
decide  on  the  proper  moment  to  speak  of — prayers. 
But  David  took  the  matter  into  his  own  hands.  As 
he  stepped  into  his  little  night-clothes,  buttoning  them 
around  his  waist  with  slow  precision,  he  said: 

"Now  I'll  say  my  prayers.  Sit  by  the  window; 
then  I  can  see  that  star  when  I  open  my  eyes.  It's 
hard  to  keep  your  eyes  shut  so  long,  ain't  it?"  he 
added  confidentially. 

Helena  sat  down,  her  heart  fluttering  in  her  throat. 
David  knelt  beside  her,  shutting  first  one  eye  and  then 
the  other.  "'Now  I  lay  me — '"  he  began  in  a  busi 
nesslike  voice.  At  the  Amen  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
drew  a  long  breath.  Helena  moved  slightly  and  he 
shut  his  eyes  again;  "I've  not  done  yet. 

"'Jesus,  tender  Shepherd,  hear  me, 
Bless  Thy  little  lamb  to-night—* " 

He  paused  and  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Richie.  "Can  I  say 
colt?"  Before  she  could  reply  he  decided  for  himself. 
"No;  colts  don't  have  shepherds;  it  has  to  be  lamb." 

Her  silent  laughter  did  not  disturb  him.  He  fin 
ished  with  another  satisfied  Amen.  Helena  put  her 
arms  about  him  to  raise  him  from  the  floor,  but  he 
looked  up,  aggrieved. 

"Why,  I've  not  done  yet"  he  reproached  her. 
"You've  forgot  the  blessings." 

1 08 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"The  blessings?"  she  asked  timidly. 
"Why,  of  course,"  said  David,  trying  to  be  patient; 
"but  I'm  most  done,"  he  encouraged  her.  "God 
bless  everybody —  Dr.  Lavendar  taught  me  the  new 
blessings,"  he  interrupted  himself,  his  eyes  snapping 
open,  "  because  my  old  blessings  were  all  gone  to 
heaven.  God  bless  everybody;  Dr.  Lavendar,  an* 
Mary,  an'  Goliath — "  Helena  laughed.  "He  said  I 
could,"  David  defended  himself  doggedly  —  "an' 
Danny,  an'  Dr.  King,  an*  Mrs.  Richie.  And  make  me 
a  good  boy.  For  Jesus'  sake  Amen.  Now  I'm 
done!"  cried  David,  scrambling  happily  to  his  feet. 

"And — Mr.   Pry  or,  too?     Won't  you  ask  God  to 
bless  Mr.  Pry  or?" 

"But,"  said  David,  frowning,  "I'm  done." 
"After  this,  though,  it  would  be  nice — " 
"Well,"  David  answered  coldly, "God  can  bless  him 
if  He  wants  to.     But  He  needn't  do  it  just  to  please 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEN  Dr.  Lavendar  left  David  at  the  Stuffed 
Animal  House,  he  didn't  feel,  somehow,  like  go 
ing  home ;  the  Rectory  would  be  so  quiet.     It  occurred 
to  him  that,  as  he  was  on  the  hill,  he  might  as  well 
look  in  on  Benjamin  Wright. 

He  found  the  old  gentleman  in  his  beaver  hat  and 
green  serge  dressing-gown,  tottering  up  and  down  the 
weedy  driveway  in  front  of  his  veranda,  and  repeating 
poetry : 

"O  great  corrector  of  enormous  times, 
Shaker  of  o'er  rank  states,  thou  grand  decider 
Of  dusty  and  old  titles,  that  healest  with  blood- 
Hello!     'Bout  time  you  came  to  see  me.     I  suppose 
you  want  to  get  some  money  out  of  me  for  some 
thing?" 

''Of  course;  I  always  .want  money  out  of  somebody 
for  something.  There's  a  leak  in  the  vestry  roof. 
How  are  you?" 

"How  do  you  suppose  I  am?  At  eighty-one,  with 
one  foot  in  the  grave!  Ready  to  jump  over  a  five- 
barred  gate?" 

"I'm  seventy-two,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "and  I 
played  marbles  yesterday." 

"Come  in  and  have  a  smoke,"  the  older  man  said, 
hobbling  on  to  the  veranda,  where  four  great  whit 

no 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

columns,  blistered  and  flaked  by  time,  supported  a 
roof  that  darkened  the  shuttered  windows  of  the 
second  story. 

He  led  the  way  indoors  to  the  dining-room,  growling 
that  his  nigger,  Simmons,  was  a  fool.  "He  says  he 
closes  the  shutters  to  keep  the  flies  out;  makes  the 
room  as  dark  as  a  pocket,  and  there  ain't  any  flies 
this  time  of  year,  anyhow.  He  does  it  to  stop  my 
birds  from  singing;  he  can't  fool  me!  To  stop  my 
birds!"  He  went  over  to  one  of  the  windows  and 
pushed  the  shutters  open  with  a  clatter;  instantly  a 
twitter  ran  from  cage  to  cage,  and  the  fierce  melan 
choly  of  his  old  face  softened.  "Hear  that?"  he  said 
proudly. 

"I  ought  to  come  oftener,"  Dr.  Lavendar  reproach 
ed  himself;  "he's  lonely." 

And,  indeed,  the  room  with  its  mammoth  sideboard 
black  with  age  and  its  solitary  chair  at  one  end  of  the 
long  table,  was  lonely  enough.  On  the  walls,  papered 
a  generation  ago  with  a  drab  paper  sprinkled  over 
with  occasional  pale  gilt  medallions,  were  some  time- 
stained  engravings:  "The  Destruction  of  Nineveh"; 
"The  Trial  of  Effle  Deans";  "The  Death -bed  of 
Washington."  A  gloomy  room  at  best;  now,  with 
the  shutters  of  one  window  still  bowed,  and  the  faint 
twitter  of  the  canaries,  and  that  one  chair  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  it  was  very  melancholy. 

"Sit  down!"  said  Benjamin  Wright.  Still  in  his 
moth-eaten  high  hat,  he  shuffled  about  to  fetch  from 
the  sideboard  a  fat  decanter  with  a  silver  chain  and 
label  around  its  neck,  and  two  tumblers. 

"No,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "I'm  obliged  to  you." 

"What,  temperance?"  snarled  the  other. 

"Well,  I  hope  so,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said,  "but  not  a 
in 


THE    AWAKENING   OF  HELENA    RICHIE 

teetotaler,  if  that's  what  you  mean.  Only  I  don't 
happen  to  want  any  whiskey  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon." 

At  which  his  host  swore  softly,  and  lifting  the  de 
canter  poured  out  two  good  fingers. 

"Mr.  Wright,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I  will  be 
obliged  if  you  will  not  swear  in  my  presence." 

"You  needn't  talk  to  me,"  cried  Benjamin  Wright, 
"I  despise  this  damned  profanity  there  is  about;  be 
sides,  I  am  always  scrupulously  particular  in  my 
language  before  females  and  parsons.  Well; — I  want 
ed  to  see  you,  because  that  jack-donkey,  Sam,  my 
grandson,  is  causing  me  some  anxiety." 

"Why,  Sam  is  a  good  boy,"  Dr.  Lavendar  pro 
tested. 

"Too  good.  I  like  a  boy  to  be  human  at  twenty- 
three.  He  doesn't  know  the  wickedness  of  the  world." 

"Thank  God,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Dominie,  ignorance  ain't  virtue." 

"No;  but  it's  a  fair  substitute.  I  wouldn't  want 
one  of  my  boys  to  be  able  to  pass  an  examination  on 
wrong-doing." 

"But  you  want  him  to  recognize  it  when  he  sees  it, 
don't  you?" 

"If  he  knows  goodness,  you  can  trust  him  to  recog 
nize  the  other  thing.  Teach  'em  goodness.  Badness 
will  label  itself," 

"Doesn't  follow,"  Benjamin  Wright  said.  "But 
you're  a  parson;  parsons  know  about  as  much  as 
females — good  females.  Look  here!  I  have  reasons 
for  saying  that  the  boy  ought  to  get  out  of  Old  Chester. 
I  want  your  assistance." 

"Get  out  of  Old  Chester! — to  see  how  wicked  the 
world  is?" 

112 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Mr.  Wright  shook  his  head.  "No;  he  could  see 
that  here — only  the  puppy  hasn't  got  his  eyes  open 
yet.  A  little  knocking  about  the  world,  such  as  any 
boy  ought  to  have,  will  open  'em.  Living  in  Old 
Chester  is  narrowing;  very  narrowing.  Besides,  he's 
got — well,  he's  got  some  truck  he's  written.  It  isn't 
entirely  bad,  Lavendar,  and  he  might  as  well  try  to 
get  it  published,  or,  maybe,  produced  in  some  theatre. 
So  let  him  go  and  hunt  up  a  publisher  or  a  manager. 
Now,  very  likely,  his — his  mother  won't  approve.  I 
want  you  to  urge — her,  to  let  him  go." 

"Travelling  might  be  good  for  Sam,"  said  Dr.  Lav 
endar;  "I  admit  that — though  not  to  learn  the  wicked 
ness  of  the  world.  But  I  don't  know  that  it  would  be 
worth  while  to  take  a  journey  just  on  account  of  his 
writing.  He  could  put  it  in  an  envelope  and  mail  it 
to  a  publisher;  he'd  get  it  back  just  as  soon,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  said  chuckling.  "Look  here,  what's  the 
matter?  I  can  see  you're  concerned  about  the  boy." 

"Concerned?"  cried  Benjamin  Wright,  pounding 
the  table  with  his  tumbler  and  chewing  orange -skin 
rapidly.  "I'm  damned  concerned." 

"I  will  ask,  sir,  that  you  will  not  swear  in  my 
presence." 

Mr.  Wright  coughed.  "I  will  endeavor  to  respect 
the  cloth,"  he  said  stiffly. 

"If  you  will  respect  yourself,  it  will  be  sufficient. 
As  for  Sam,  if  there's  anything  wrong,  his  father 
ought  to  know  it." 

"Well  then,  tell  his — mother,  that  there  is  some 
thing  wrong." 

"What?" 

Mr.  Wright  got  up,  and  clasping  his  hands  behind 
him,  shuffled  about  the  room.  Instantly  one  of  the 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

canaries  began  to  sing.  "Stop  that!"  he  said.  The 
bird  quivered  with  shrill  music.  ''Stop I  You!  .  .  . 
There's  no  such  thing  as  conversation,  with  these 
creatures  about,"  he  added  in  a  proud  aside.  "Did 
you  ever  hear  such  singing  ?" 

Dr.  Lavendar,  unable  to  make  himself  heard,  shook 
his  head. 

"If  you  don't  stop,"  said  Mr.  Wright,  "I'll  wring 
your  neck!"  and  as  the  bird  continued,  he  opened  the 
door.  "Simmons!  You  freckled  nigger!  Bring  me 
the  apron."  Then  he  stamped,  and  cursed  the  slow 
ness  of  niggers.  Simmons,  however,  came  as  fast 
as  his  old  legs  could  carry  him,  bearing  a  blue  ging 
ham  apron.  This,  thrown  over  the  cage,  produced 
silence. 

"There!  Now,  perhaps,  you'll  hold  your  tongue? 
.  .  .  Lavendar,  I  prefer  not  to  say  what  is  wrong. 
Merely  tell  Sam's — mother,  that  he  had  better  go.  If 
• — she  is  too  mean  to  provide  the  money,  I  will." 

"Sam's  father  is  not  too  mean  to  do  anything  for 
Sam's  welfare;  but  of  course,  a  general  accusation  is 
not  convincing;  should  not  be  convincing —  Why!" 
said  Dr.  Lavendar,  interrupting  himself,  "bless  my 
heart!  I  believe  you  mean  that  the  boy  is  making 
sheep's-eyes  at  your  neighbor  here  on  the  hill?  Is 
that  it?  Why,  Benjamin,  the  best  way  to  cure  that 
is  to  pay  no  attention  to  it." 

"Sir,"  said  Mr.  Wright,  sinking  into  his  chair 
breathlessly,  and  tapping  the  table  with  one  veined 
old  finger;  "when  I  was  a  young  man,  it  was  not 
thought  proper  to  introduce  the  name  of  a  female  into 
a  discussion  between  gentlemen." 

"Well,"  Dr.  Lavendar  admitted,  "maybe  not — 
when  you  were  young.  But  all  of  us  young  folks  in 

114 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Old  Chester  know  perfectly  well  that  Sam  is  smitten, 
and  we  are  ignoring  it." 

"  What!     His — mother  knows  it  ?" 

"His  father  knows  it  perfectly  well,"  said  Dr.  Lav- 
endar  smiling. 

Mr.  Wright  got  up  again,  his  fingers  twitching  with 
impatience.  "Lavendar,"  he  began  —  another  bird 
trilled,  and  snarling  with  annoyance,  he  pulled  the 
blue  apron  from  the  first  cage  and  threw  it  over  the 
second.  "These  creatures  drive  me  distracted!  .  .  . 
Lavendar,  to  get  Sam  out  of  Old  Chester,  I  might  al 
most  consent  to  see  his — mother,  if  there  was  no  other 
way  to  accomplish  it." 

At  that  Dr.  Lavendar  stopped  smiling.  "Benja 
min,"  he  said  solemnly,  "if  any  foolishness  on  the 
part  of  the  boy  brings  you  to  such  wisdom,  the  hand 
of  the  Lord  will  be  in  it!" 

"I  don't  want  to  see — his  relations!"  cried  Benjamin 
Wright;  "but  Sam's  got  to  get  a.way  from  this  place  for 
a  while,  and  if  you  won't  persuade  his — mother  to  allow 
it,  why  I  might  be  driven  to  seeing — her.  But  why 
shouldn't  he  try  to  get  his  truck  published?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  was  very  much  moved.  "If  you'll 
only  see  your  son,"  he  said,  "this  other  business  will 
straighten  itself  out  somehow.  But — "  he  paused; 
"getting  Sam's  play  published  isn't  a  very  good  ex 
cuse  for  seeing  him.  I'd  rather  have  him  think  you 
were  worried  because  the  boy  had  an  attack  of  calf 
love.  No;  I  wouldn't  want  you  to  talk  about  theat 
rical  things,"  Dr.  Lavendar  ended  thoughtfully. 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  Samuel  has  no  sympathy  with 
dramas  or  playhouses.  I  do  not  myself  approve  of 
the  theatre,  but  I  am  told  respectable  persons  have 

"5 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

adopted  the  profession.  Samuel,  however,  can't  find 
any  good  in  it." 

"He  can't,  can't  he?  Well,  well;  it  was  efficacious 
— it  was  efficacious!" 

"What  was  efficacious?" 

Benjamin  Wright  laughed  loudly.  "You  don't 
know?  He  never  told  you?" 

"You  mean  what  you  and  he  quarrelled  about? 
No;  he  never  told  me." 

"He  was  a  fool." 

"Benjamin,  if  you  were  not  a  fool  at  twenty-four, 
you  missed  a  good  deal." 

"And  now  he  objects  to  theatrical  things?" 

"He  objects  so  intensely,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar, 
"that,  anxious  as  I  am  to  have  you  meet  and  bring 
this  foolish  and  wicked  quarrel  to  an  end,  I  should 
really  hesitate  to  have  you  do  so,  if  you  insisted  on 
discussing  that  subject." 

Benjamin  Wright  lifted  one  trembling  fist.  "It 
was  efficacious!" 

"And  you  would  give  your  right  hand  to  undo  it," 
said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

The  very  old  man  lowered  his  shaking  right  hand 
and  looked  at  it;  then  he  said  sullenly,  "  I  only  wanted 
his  own  good.  You  ought  to  see  that — a  parson!" 

"But  you  forget;  I  don't  know  what  it  was  about." 

Mr.  Wright's  face  twitched.  "Well,"  he  said  spas 
modically,  "  I'll— tell  you.  I—" 

"Yes?" 

"I — "  his  voice  broke,  then  he  coughed,  then  he 
tried  to  laugh.  "Simple  enough;  simple  enough.  I 
had  occasion  to  send  him  to  Mercer.  He  was  to  come 
back  that  night."  Mr.  Wright  stopped;  poured  some 
whiskey  into  his  glass,  and  forgetting  to  add  any  water, 

116 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

drank  it  at  a  gulp.  "He  didn't  come  back  until  the 
next  afternoon." 

"Yes.     Well?0 

"  In  those  days  I  was  of — of  somewhat  hasty  temper." 

"So  I  have  heard,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

Benjamin  Wright  glared.  "When  I  was  young, 
listening  to  gossip  was  not  thought  becoming  in  the 
cloth.  When  he  came,  I  learned  that  he  had  stayed 
over  in  Mercer — without  my  consent,  mark  you — to  go 
to  the  theatre!" 

"Well?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "He  was  twenty- 
four.  Why  should  he  have  your  consent  ?" 

Mr.  Wright  waved  this  question  aside.  "When  he 
came  home,  I  spoke  with  some  severity." 

"This  quarrel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "is  not  built  on 
such  folly  as  that." 

Benjamin  Wright  shook  his  head,  and  made  a  care 
less  gesture  with  his  trembling  hand.  "  Not — entirely. 
I  reproved  him,  as  I  say.  And  he  was  impertinent. 
Impertinent,  mind  you,  to  his  father!  And  I  —  in 
those  days  my  temper  was  somewhat  quick — I — " 

"Yes?" 

But  Mr.  Wright  seemed  unable  to  proceed,  except 
to  say  again,  "I — reproved  him." 

"But,"  Dr.  Lavendar  protested,  "you  don't  mean 
to  tell  me  that  Samuel,  just  for  a  reproof,  an  unkind 
and  unjust  reproof,  would — why,  I  cannot  believe  it!" 

"It  was  not  unjust!"  Benjamin  Wright's  melan 
choly  eyes  flamed  angrily. 

"I  know,  Samuel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "He  is  ob 
stinate;  I've  told  him  so  a  hundred  times.  And  he's 
conceited — so's  everybody,  more  or  less;  if  in  nothing 
else,  we're  conceited  because  we're  not  conceited. 
But  he's  not  a  fool.  So,  whether  he  is  right  or  not,  I 

117 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

am  sure  he  thinks  he  had  something  more  to  com 
plain  of  than  a  good  blowing-up?" 

"In  a  way,"  said  the  old  man,  examining  his  ridgy 
finger-nails  and  speaking  with  a  gasp,  "he  had. 
Slightly." 

Dr.  Lavendar's  stern  lip  trembled  with  anxiety. 
"What!" 

"I  —  chastised  him;  a  little. 


" 


Benjamin  Wright  nodded;  the  wrinkled  pouches 
under  his  eyes  grew  dully  red.  "My  God!"  he  said 
plaintively;  "think  of  that  —  a  hasty  moment!  Thirty- 
two  years;  my  God!  I  —  spanked  him." 

Dr.  Lavendar  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but  found  no 
words. 

"And  he  was  offended!  Offended?  What  right 
had  he  to  be  offended?  I  was  the  offended  party! 
He  went  to  a  low  theatre.  Apparently  you  see  noth 
ing  wrong  in  that?  Well,  I've  always  said  that  every 
parson  had  the  making  of  an  actor  in  him.  It's  a  toss- 
up  —  the  stage  or  the  pulpit.  Same  thing  at  bottom. 
But  perhaps  even  you  won't  approve  of  his  staying 
away  all  night?  Smoking!  Drinking!  He'd  been 
drunk.  He  confessed  it.  And  there  was  a  woman  in 
it.  He  confessed  that.  Said  they'd  all  '  gone  to  sup 
per  together.'  Said  that  he  was  'seeing  the  world* 
—  which  a  man  ('man,'  if  you  please!)  of  his  years 
had  a  right  to  do.  Well;  I  suppose  you'd  have  had 
me  smile  at  him,  and  tuck  him  up  in  bed  to  sleep  off 
his  headache,  and  give  him  a  stick  of  candy?  That 
wasn't  my  way.  I  reproved  him.  I  —  chastised  him. 
Perfectly  proper.  Perhaps  —  unusual.  He  was  twen 
ty-four,  and  I  laid  him  across  my  knee,  and  —  well; 
I  got  over  it  in  fifteen  minutes.  I  was,  perhaps,  hasty. 

118 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

My  temper  in  those  days  was  not  what  it  is  now. 
But  I  forgave  him  in  fifteen  minutes;  and  he  had  gone! 
He's  been  gone — for  thirty-two  years.  My  God!" 

He  poured  out  another  finger  of  whiskey,  but  forgot 
to  drink  it.  A  canary-bird  chirped  loudly,  then 
lapsed  into  a  sleepy  twitter. 

"  I  was  well  rid  of  him!  To  make  a  quarrel  out  of  a 
thing  like  that — a  joke,  as  you  might  say.  I  laughed, 
myself,  afterwards,  at  the  thought  of  it.  A  fellow  of 
twenty-four — spanked!  Why  didn't  he  swear  and  be 
done  with  it?  I  would  have  reproved  him  for  his 
profanity,  of  course.  Profanity  in  young  persons  is  a 
thing  I  will  not  tolerate;  Simmons  wrill  tell  you  so. 
But  it  would  have  cleared  the  air.  If  he  had  done 
that,  we'd  have  been  laughing  about  it,  now;-— he  and 
I,  together."  The  old  man  suddenly  put  both  hands 
over  his  face,  and  a  broken  sound  came  from  behind 
them. 

Dr.  Lavendar  shook  his  head,  speechlessly. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  cried  Benjamin 
Wright,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  banging  it  down  on 
the  table  so  fiercely  that  the  crown  collapsed  on  one 
side  like  an  accordion.  "Good  God!  Can't  you  see 
the  tomfoolery  of  this  business  of  thirty-two  years  of 
hurt  feelings?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  was  silent. 

"What!  You  excuse  him?  When  I  was  young, 
parsons  believed  in  the  Ten  Commandments;  'Honor 
thy  father  and  thy  mother — ' ' ' 

"There  is  another  scripture  which  saith,  'Fathers, 
provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath.'  And  when  it 
comes  to  the  Commandments,  I  would  commend  the 
third  to  your  attention.  As  for  Samuel,  you  robbed 
him." 

119 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Robbed  him?" 

"You  took  his  self-respect,  A  young  man's  dignity, 
at  twenty-four,  is  as  precious  to  him  as  a  woman's 
modesty.  You  stole  it.  Yes;  you  robbed  him.  Our 
Heavenly  Father  doesn't  do  that,  when  He  punishes 
us.  We  lose  our  dignity  ourselves ;  but  He  never  robs 
us  of  it.  Did  ye  ever  notice  that  ?  Well ;  you  robbed 
Samuel.  My — my — my!"  Dr.  Lavendar  sighed  wea 
rily.  For,  indeed,  the  matter  looked  very  dark.  Here 
was  the  moment  he  had  prayed  for  —  the  readiness 
of  one  or  the  other  of  the  two  men  to  take  the 
first  step  towards  reconciliation.  Such  readiness,  he 
had  thought,  would  mean  the  healing  of  the  dreadful 
wound,  whatever  it  was;  forgiveness  on  the  father's 
part  of  some  terrible  wrong-doing,  forgiveness  on  the 
son's  part  of  eqtially  terrible  hardness  of  heart.  In 
stead  he  found  a  cruel  and  ridiculous  mortification, 
made  permanent  by  thirty -two  unpardoning  years. 
Here  was  no  sin  to  command  the  dreadful  dignity  of 
repentance,  with  its  divine  response  of  forgiveness. 
The  very  lack  of  seriousness  in  the  cause  made  the 
effect  more  serious.  He  looked  over  at  the  older  man, 
and  shook  his  head.  .  .  .  How  could  they  pay  their 
debts  to  each  other,  this  father  and  son?  Could  Ben 
jamin  Wright  return  the  self-respect  he  had  stolen 
away  ?  Could  Samuel  offer  that  filial  affection  which 
should  have  blessed  all  these  empty  years?  A  wick 
edly  ludicrous  memory  forbade  the  solemnity  of  a 
reconciliation:  below  any  attempt  the  father  might 
make,  there  would  be  a  grin,  somewhere;  below  any 
attempt  the  son  might  make,  there  would  be  a  cringe, 
somewhere.  The  only  possible  hope  was  in  absolute, 
flat  commonplace.  Play-writing,  as  a  subject  of  con 
versation,  was  out  of  the  question! 

120 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Benjamin,"  he  said  with  agitation,  "I  thank  God 
that  you  are  willing  to  see  Samuel;  but  you  must 
promise  me  not  to  refer  to  Sam's  play.  You  must 
promise  me  this,  or  the  last  end  of  the  quarrel  will  be 
worse  than  the  first." 

"I  haven't  said  I  was  willing  to  see  him,"  Mr. 
Wright  broke  out;  "I'm  not  willing!  Is  it  likely  that 
I  would  hanker  after  an  interview?  All  I  want  is  to 
get  the  boy  away  from  Old  Chester;  to  'see  the  world.' 
His — father  ought  to  sympathize  with  that!  Yes;  to 
get  him  away,  I  would  even —  But  if  you  will  tell 
his — relatives,  that  in  my  judgment,  he  ought  to  go 
away,  that  is  all  that  is  necessary." 

"No!  You  must  urge  it  yourself,"  Dr.  Lavendar 
said  eagerly.  "Put  it  on  the  ground  of  calf-love,  if 
you  want  to,  I'll  tell  Samuel  you  want  to  get  Sam 
out  of  town  because  you're  afraid  he's  falling  in  love 
withMrs.  Richie ;  and  you'd  like  to  consulthim  about  it." 

But  the  old  man  began  a  'scrabbling  retreat.  "No! 
No!"  he  said,  putting  on  his  hat  with  shaking  hands, 
"No;  don't  tell  anybody  anything.  I'll  find  some 
other  way  out  of  it.  Let  it  go.  Seeing  his — relatives 
is  a  last  resource.  If  they  are  so  virtuous  as  to  object 
to  plays,  I'll  try  something  else.  Object?"  he  repeated. 
"Gad-a-mercy!  My  discipline  was  successful!"  He 
grinned  wickedly. 

Dr.  Lavendar  made  no  reply.  The  interview  had  been 
a  strain,  and  he  got  up  a  little  feebly.  Benjamin  Wright, 
as  he  saw  him  to  the  door,  swore  again  at  some  misde 
meanor  on  the  part  of  Simmons,  but  was  not  rebuked. 

The  old  minister  climbed  into  his  buggy,  and  told 
Goliath  to  "  g'long."  As  he  passed  the  Stuffed  Animal 
House,  he  peered  through  the  little  dusty  window  of 
the  hood ;  but  David  was  not  in  sight, 

121 


CHAPTER  XII 

THINK,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  as  he  and  Goliath 
came  plodding  into  Old  Chester  in  the  May  dusk, 
"I  think  I'll  go  and  see  Willy.  He'll  tell  me  how 
much  Sam's  love-making  amounts  to." 

His  mind  was  on  the  matter  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  hardly  heard  Mary's  anxious  scolding  because  he 
looked  tired;  but  his  preoccupation  lifted  at  supper, 
in  the  consciousness  of  how  lonely  he  was  without 
David.  He  really  wanted  to  get  out  of  the  house  and 
leave  the  loneliness  behind  him.  So  after  tea  he  put 
on  his  broad-brimmed  felt  hat  and  tied  a  blue  muffler 
around  his  throat — Dr.  Lavendar  felt  the  cold  a  good 
deal;  he  said  it  was  because  the  seasons  were  changing 
— and  walked  wearily  over  to  Dr.  King's  house.  That 
talk  with  Benjamin  Wright  had  told  on  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  as  the  doctor's  wife  opened  the 
door;  "how  are  you,  Martha?" 

"Very  tired,"  said  Mrs.  King.  "And  dear  me,  Dr. 
Lavendar,  you  look  tired  yourself.  You're  too  old  to 
do  so  much,  sir.  Come  in  and  sit  down." 

"I'll  sit  down,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  dropping  into  a 
chair  in  the  parlor;  "but  don't  flatter  yourself,  Martha, 
that  you'll  ever  be  as  young  as  I  am!"  ("He  is  fail 
ing,"  Mrs.  King  told  her  husband  afterwards.  "He 
gets  his  words  all  mixed  up.  He  says  'young*  when 
he  means  'old.1  Isn't  that  a  sign  of  something, 

122 


THE    AWAKENING   OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

William?"  "It's  a  sign  of  grace,"  said  the  doctor, 
shortly.) 

"I  want  Willy  to  come  over  and  give  my  Mary  a 
pill,"  Dr.  Lavendar  explained.  "  She  is  as  cross  as  a 
bear,  and  cross  people  are  generally  sick  people — al 
though  I  suppose  that's  Mary's  temperament,"  he 
added  sighing. 

Martha  shook  her  head.  "In  my  judgment  tem 
perament  is  just  another  word  for  temper!  I  don't 
believe  in  making  excuses  for  it.  That's  a  great  trick 
of  William's,  I'm  sorry  to  say." 

"I  should  have  thought  you'd  have  cured  him  of  it 
by  this  time?"  Dr.  Lavendar  murmured;  and  then  he 
asked  if  the  doctor  was  out. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  King,  dryly;  "Willy  always 
manages  to  get  out  in  the  evening  on  one  excuse  or 
another.  You'd  think  he'd  be  glad  of  a  restful  even 
ing  at  home  with  me,  sometimes.  But  no;  William's 
patients  need  a  surprising  amount  of  attention,  though 
his  bills  don't  show  it,  When  Mrs.  Richie's  cook  was 
sick — just  as  an  instance — he  went  six  times  to  see 
her.  I  counted." 

"Well;  she  got  well?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Got  well?  She'd  have  got  well  if  he  hadn't  gone 
near  her."  Martha  began  to  stroke  the  gathers  on  a 
bit  of  cambric  with  a  precise  needle  that  suddenly 
trembled.  "The  woman  herself  was  not  to  blame; 
it's  only  just  to  say  that. — And  there's  one  thing 
about  me,  Dr.  Lavendar;  I  may  not  be  perfect,  but  I 
am  always  just.  No;  she  was  not  to  blame;  it  was 
Mrs.  Richie  who  sent  for  William.  She  is  the  most 
helpless  woman  I  ever  saw,  for  her  years; — she  is  at 
least  forty,  though  she  uses  sachet -powders,  and  wears 
undersleeves  all  trimmed  with  lace,  as  if  she  were  six- 

"3 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

teen!  I  don't  want  to  find  fault,  Dr.  Lavendar,  but  I 
must  say  that  /  wouldn't  have  trusted  that  little  boy 
to  her." 

"Oh,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I  trusted  her  to  the 
little  boy!  She'll  be  so  busy  looking  after  his  sleeves, 
she'll  forget  her  own." 

Mrs.  King  sniffed,  doubtfully.  "I'm  sure  I  hope 
you  are  right;  but  in  my  opinion,  she's  a  very  helpless 
and  foolish  woman; — if  nothing  worse.  Though  ac 
cording  to  my  ideas,  the  way  she  lets  Sam  Wright's 
Sam  behave  is  worse!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  was  suddenly  attentive.  "  How  does 
she  let  him  behave?" 

"Well,  he  is  so  daft  over  her  that  he  neglects  his 
work  at  the  bank  to  write  verses.  Why  doesn't  she 
stop  it  ?" 

"Because,"  said  William  King,  appearing  in  the 
doorway,  smelling  honestly  of  the  barn  and  picking  off 
a  straw  here  and  there  from  his  sleeve;  "she  knows 
nothing  about  it." 

Dr.  Lavendar  and  Martha  both  looked  up,  startled 
at  his  tone. 

"Women,"  said  the  doctor,  "would  gossip  about  a 
— a  clam!" 

"I  am  not  gossipingl"  Martha  defended  herself; 
but  Dr.  Lavendar  interrupted  her,  cheerfully. 

"Well,  I  am.  I  came  over  to  gossip  with  William 
on  this  very  subject. — Martha,  will  you  let  him  put  a 
match  to  that  grate?  I  declare,  the  seasons  are 
changing.  When  I  was  your  age  it  wasn't  cold 
enough  to  have  a  fire  in  May. — Look  here,  Willy,  what 
do  you  mean  by  saying  Mrs.  Richie  doesn't  know 
Sam's  sentiments  ?" 

"I  mean  that  women  like  Mrs.  Richie  are  so  uncon- 
124 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

scious,  they  don't  see  things  like  that*     She's  as  un 
conscious  as  a  girl." 

"Tckl"  said  Martha. 

"A  girl!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. — "Say  a  tree,  or  a 
boy;  but  don't  say  a  girl.  Why,  William,  everybody 
sees  it.  Even  Benjamin  Wright.  Of  course  she 
knows  it." 

11  She  doesn't;  she  isn't  the  kind  that  thinks  of 
things  like  that.  Of  course,  some  women  would  have 
discovered  it  months  ago;  one  of  your  strong-minded 
ladies ,  perhaps — only  Sam  wouldn't  have  been  spoony 
on  that  kind.** 

"  Well!"  said  Martha,  "  I  must  say,  flat—" 

But  William  interrupted  her — "To  prove  what  I 
say:  she  lets  him  come  in  and  bore  her  to  death,  just 
out  of  kindness.  Do  you  suppose  she  would  do  that 
if  she  knew  he  was  such  an  idiot  as  to  presume  to — 
to—" 

"Well,"  said  Dr,  Lavendar,  "as  there  is  so  much 
ignorance  about,  perhaps  Sam  doesn't  know  he's  lost 
his  heart?" 

But  at  that  William  laughed.  "He  knows  1  Trust 
a  young  fellow  1  That's  just  the  difference  between  a 
man  and  a  woman,  sir;  the  man  always  knows;  the 
woman,  if  she's  the  right  kind,  doesn't — until  she's 
told." 

"Tckt"  said  Martha. 

Dr.  Lavendar  looked  down  at  the  bowl  of  his  pipe , 
then  he  said  meekly,  "I  was  under  the  impression  that 
Eve  ate  her  apple  before  Adam  had  so  much  as  a  bite. 
Still,  whether  Mrs.  Richie  knows  the  state  of  Sam's 
affections  or  not,  I  do  wish  she  would  urge  him  to  put 
his  mind  on  his  work.  That's  what  I  came  in  to 
speak  to  you  abouto  His  father  is  all  on  edge  about 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA  RICHIE 

it,  and  now  his  grandfather  has  taken  it  into  his  head 
to  be  worried  over  it,  too.  But  you  know  her  better 
than  the  rest  of  us  do,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you'd 
drop  a  hint  that  she  would  be  doing  missionary  work 
if  she'd  influence  the  boy  to  be  more  industrious." 

"I'll  go  and  talk  it  over  with  her,"  Martha  volun 
teered.  "I  am  always  ready  to  advise  any  one." 

William  King  got  up  and  kicked  at  a  lump  of  coal 
in  the  grate.  "I  am  sure  you  are,"  he  said  dryly; 
"but  no  talking  over  is  necessary.  I  shall  probably 
be  going  up  the  hill  in  a  few  days,  and  I'll  say  a  word 
if  Dr.  Lavendar  wants  me  to.  Nothing  definite;  just 
enlist  her  sympathy  for  his  father — and  get  her  to 
protect  herself,  too.  He  must  be  an  awful  nuisance." 

"That's  it!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "I'd  do  it  myself, 
but  you  know  her  better  than  I  do.  I'm  getting  ac 
quainted  with  her  through  David.  David  is  really  a 
remarkable  child!  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  miss  him." 
And  then  he  began  to  relate  David's  sayings,  while 
Martha  sewed  fiercely,  and  William  stared  at  the 
hearth-rug.  "The  littls  rascal  is  no  Peter  Grievous," 
Dr.  Lavendar  declared,  proudly;  and  told  a  story  of 
a  badly  barked  knee,  and  a  very  stiff  upper-lip;  "  and 
the  questions  he  asks!"  said  the  old  man,  holding  up 
both  hands;  "theological  questions;  the  House  of 
Bishops  couldn't  answer  'em!"  He  repeated  some  of 
the  questions,  watching  the  husband  and  wife  with 
swift  glances  over  his  spectacles;  when  he  had  wrung 
a  reluctant  laugh  from  the  doctor,  and  Mrs.  King  was 
not  sewing  so  fast,  he  went  home,  not  much  rested  by 
his  call. 

But  the  result  of  the  call  was  that  at  the  end  of  the 
week  Dr.  King  went  up  to  the  Stuffed  Animal  House. 

*'We  are  shipwrecked!"  cried  Mrs.  Richie,  as  she 
126 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

saw  him  coming  down  the  garden  path  towards  the 
barn.  Her  face  was  flushed  and  gay,  and  her  hair, 
shaken  from  its  shining  wreath  around  her  head, 
hung  in  two  braids  down  her  back.  She  had  had  a 
swing  put  up  under  the  big  buttonwood  beside  the 
stable,  and  David,  climbing  into  it,  had  clung  to  the 
rigging  to  be  dashed,  side  wise,  on  to  the  rocks  of  the 
carriageway,  where  Mrs.  Richie  stood  ready  to  catch 
him  when  the  vessel  should  drive  near  enough  to  the 
shore.  In  an  endeavor  to  save  himself  from  some  en 
gulfing  sea  which  his  playmate  had  pointed  out  to 
him,  David  had  clutched  at  her,  breaking  the  top 
hook  of  her  gown  and  tearing  her  collar  apart,  leaving 
her  throat,  white  and  round,  open  to  the  hot  sun. 
Before  the  doctor  reached  her,  she  caught  her  dress 
together,  and  twisted  her  hair  into  a  knot.  "You 
can't  keep  things  smooth  in  a  shipwreck,"  she  excused 
herself,  laughing. 

David  sighed,  and  looked  into  the  carriage-house. 
In  that  jungle — Mrs.  Richie  had  called  it  a  jungle — 
were  wild  beasts ;  there  were  also  crackers  and  apples — 
or  to  be  exact,  breadfruit  and  citrons — hanging  from 
what  George  called  "harness-racks,"  though  of  course, 
as  thoughtful  persons  know,  they  were  trees;  David 
was  to  gather  these  tropical  spoils,  and  then  escape 
from  the  leopard,  the  shark,  the  crocodile!  And  now 
here  was  Dr.  King,  spoiling  everything. 

The  doctor  sat  down  on  a  keg  and  looked  at  the 
two,  smiling.  "Which  is  the  younger  of  you?"  he 
said.  It  came  over  him,  in  a  gust  of  amusement,  what 
Martha  would  say  to  such  a  scene,  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

"Dr.  King,"  said  David,  in  a  small  distinct  voice, 
"won't  Jinny  run  away,  if  you  leave  her  so  long  at 
the  gate?" 

127 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Oh,  David!"  cried  Mrs.  Richie,  horrified.  But 
the  visitor  threw  back  his  head  with  a  shout. 

"That's  what  my  wife  would  call  speaking  'flatly 
and  frankly'!  Well,  Mrs.  Richie,  I  never  wrote  a  bet 
ter  prescription  in  my  life.  You  look  like  a  different 
woman,  already." 

And,  indeed,  the  youth  in  her  face  was  as  careless 
as  David's  own.  But  it  flagged  when  he  added  that 
he  hoped  her  brother  would  not  think  the  care  of 
David  would  be  too  much  for  her. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said,  briefly. 

"I  feel  like  saying  'I  told  you  so'!  I  knew  you 
would  like  to  have  a  child  about." 

"I  do,  but  he  is  a  tyrant.  Aren't  you,  David?  I 
have  to  get  up  for  breakfast!" 

"Terrible,"  said  William  delightedly. 

"Why,  but  it  is.  I  don't  know  when  I've  done 
such  a  thing!  At  first  I  thought  I  really  couldn't. 
But  I  couldn't  leave  him  all  by  himself,  down-stairs' 
—could  I,  David?" 

"I'd  just  as  lieves,"  said  David,  gently. 

"Oh,  how  like  your  sex!"  Helena  cried. 

"What  do  you  suppose  I've  come  for  ?"  Dr.  King  began 
in  the  bantering  tone  one  uses  to  a  child.  "I've  come 
to  get  you  to  exert  your  influence  to  improve  business. 
Business /"  he  repeated,  delighted  at  his  own  absurdity; 
"a  lady  who  finds  it  hard  to  get  up  in  the  mornings." 

She  looked  at  him  ruefully;  "I'm  lazy,  I  am  afraid." 

"No,  you're  not — it's  a  very  sensible  thing  to  do,  if 
you  are  not  strong.  Well,  I  must  tell  you  what  we 
want;  Sam  Wright  is  anxious,  because  young  Sam 
neglects  his  work  at  the  bank,  and — " 

"But  he  doesn't  like  business,"  she  explained  with 
a  surprised  look;  and  William  laughed  with  pleasure. 

128 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"So  that's  a  reason  for  not  attending  to  it?  Un 
fortunately,  that's  the  young  man's  own  point  of 
view.  He's  a  queer  youngster,"  William  added  in  his 
kind  voice. 

"I  don't  think  it's  queer  not  to  like  disagreeable 
things,"  Helena  said. 

"Well,  no;  but  all  the  same,  we've  got  to  stand 
them.  Sam  has  no  patience  with  anything  disagree 
able.  Why,  when  he  was  a  little  fellow — let  me  see, 
he  was  younger  than  David;  about  four,  I  think — he 
scratched  his  finger  one  day  pretty  severely;  it  smart 
ed,  I  guess,  badly.  Anyway,  he  roared!  Then  he 
picked  up  a  pair  of  scissors  and  ran  bawling  to  his 
mother;  'Mamma,  cut  finger  off!  It  hurts  Sam — cut 
finger  off!'  That's  been  his  principle  ever  since:  'it 
hurts — get  rid  of  it.'" 

"I  don't  blame  him  in  the  least,"  Helena  protested 
gayly;  "I'm  sure  I've  wanted  to  'cut  finger  off.' 
And  I  have  done  it,  tool" 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor  with  great  pretence  of 
gravity,  "I  suppose,  then,  we'll  have  to  tell  old  Mr. 
Wright  that  nobody  must  ever  do  anything  he  doesn't 
want  to  do?  It  appears  that  he's  worried,  too,  be 
cause  the  young  gentleman  isn't  industrious.  The 
fact  is,  he  thinks  Sam  would  rather  come  up  here  than 
work  over  his  ledgers,"  he  teased. 

Helena  sprung  to  her  feet,  nervously.  "But  I 
wish  he  wouldn't  come!  I  don't  want  him  to  come. 
I  can't  help  it;  indeed  I — I  can't  help  it!"  She  spoke 
with  a  sort  of  gasp.  Instantly  David,  who  had  been 
lounging  in  the  swing,  slipped  down  and  planted  him 
self  directly  in  front  of  her,  his  arms  stretched  out  at 
each  side.  "I'll  take  care  of  you,"  he  said  protect- 
ingly. 

129 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

William  King  caught  his  breath.  No  one  could 
have  heard  the  frightened  note  in  her  voice  without 
understanding  David's  impulse.  The  doctor  shared 
it.  Evidently  Sam  had  been  making  love  to  her,  and 
her  very  innocence  made  her  quick  to  feel  herself  re 
buked!  William  felt  an  ardent  desire  to  kick  Sam 
Wright's  Sam. 

But  Mrs.  Richie  was  herself  again;  she  laughed, 
though  not  quite  naturally,  and  sat  down  in  the  swing, 
swaying  slightly  back  and  forth  with  an  indolent  push 
of  her  pretty  foot.  David  lounged  against  her  knee, 
eying  the  doctor  with  frank  displeasure.  "  I  am  sure," 
she  said,  "I  wish  Sam  would  attend  to  his  ledgers;  it 
would  be  much  better  than  making  visits." 

"Dr.  King,"  David  said,  gently,  "I'll  shake  hands 
now,  and  say  good-by." 

The  laugh  that  followed  changed  the  subject,  al 
though  warm  in  William's  consciousness  the  thought 
remained  that  she  had  let  him  know  what  the  subject 
meant  to  her:  he  shared  a  secret  with  her!     She  had 
told  him,  indirectly  perhaps,  but  still  told  him,  of  he 
troubles  with  young  Sam.     It  was  as  if  she  had  pu 
out  her  hand  and  said,  "Help  me!"      Inarticulately 
he  felt  what  David  had  said,  "I'll  take  care  of  you! 
And  his  first  care  must  be  to  make  her  forget  wha 
had  distressed  her.     He  said  with  the  air  of  one  im 
parting  interesting  information,  that  some  time  in  th 
next  fortnight  he  would  probably  go  to  Philadelphi 
on  business.     "Can  I  do  any  errands  for  you?     Don* 
you  ladies  always  want  ribbons,  or  something." 

"Does   Mrs.    King  let  you  buy  ribbons  for  her? 
Helena  asked. 

"Ribbons!     I  am  to  buy  yarn,  and  some  particula 
brand  of  lye  for  soap." 

130 


GOOD       FRIENDS 


THE    AWAKENING     OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Lye!     How  do  you  make  soap  out  of  lye?" 

"You  save  all  the" — William  hesitated  for  a  suffi 
ciently  delicate  word — "the — fat,  you  know,  in  the 
kitchen,  and  then  you  make  soft  soap." 

"Why!  I  didn't  know  that  was  how  soap  was 
made." 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't,"  said  William  King.  "I 
mean  —  it's  disagreeable,"  he  ended  weakly.  And 
then,  to  David's  open  joy,  he  said  good-by  and  jogged 
off  down  the  hill,  leaving  Mrs.  Richie  to  her  new  re 
sponsibilities  of  discipline. 

"Now,  David,  come  here.     I've  got  to  scold  you." 

David  promptly  climbed  up  into  the  swing  and 
settled  himself  in  her  lap.  Then  he  snuggled  his  little 
nose  down  into  her  neck.  "I'm  a  bear,"  he  an 
nounced.  "I'm  eating  you.  Now,  you  scream  and 
I'll  roar." 

"Oh,  David,  you  little  monkey!  Listen  to  me; 
you  weren't  very  polite  to  Dr.  King." 

"O-o-o-o-o-o!"  roared  the  bear. 

"You  should  make  him  feel  you  were  glad  to  see 
him." 

"I  wasn't,"  mumbled  David. 

"  But  you  must  have  manners,  dear  little  boy." 

"I  have,"  David  defended  himself,  sitting  up 
straight.  "I  have  them  in  my  head;  but  I  only  use 
them  sometimes." 

Upon  which  the  disciplinarian  collapsed;  "You 
rogue!"  she  said;  "come  here,  and  I'll  give  you  'forty 
kisses'!" 

David  was  instantly  silent;  he  shrank  away,  lifting 
his  shoulder  against  his  cheek  and  looking  at  her  shyly. 
"I  won't,  dear!"  she  reassured  him,  impetuously; 
"truly  I  won't." 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

But  she  said  to  herself  she  must  remember  to  re 
peat  the  speech  about  manners  to  the  doctor;  it 
would  make  him  laugh. 

William  laughed  easily  when  he  came  to  the  Stuffed 
Animal  House.  Indeed,  he  had  laughed  when  he 
went  away  from  it,  and  stopped  for  a  minute  at  Dr. 
Lavendar's  to  tell  him  that  Mrs.  Richie  was  just  as 
anxious  as  anybody  that  Sam  Wright  should  attend 
to  his  business.  "Business !"  said  the  doctor,  "much 
she  knows  about  it!"  And  then  he  added  that  he 
was  sure  she  would  do  her  part  to  influence  the  boy  to 
be  more  industrious.  "And  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
she  won't  allow  any  love-making,"  said  William. 

He  laughed  again  suddenly,  out  loud,  as  he  ate  his 
supper  that  night,  because  some  memory  of  the  after 
noon  came  into  his  head.  When  Martha,  starting  at 
the  unusual  sound,  asked  what  he  was  laughing  at,  he 
told  her  he  had  found  Mrs.  Richie  playing  with  David 
Allison.  "They  were  like  two  children;  I  said  I 
didn't  know  which  was  the  younger.  They  were  pre 
tending  they  were  shipwrecked;  the  swing  was  the 
vessel,  if  you  please!'* 

"I  suppose  she  was  trying  to  amuse  him,"  Mrs. 
King  said.  "  That's  a  great  mistake  with  children. 
Give  a  child  a  book,  or  put  him  down  to  some  useful 
task;  that's  my  idea." 

"Oh,  she  was  amusing  herself,"  William  explained. 
Mrs.  King  was  silent. 

"She  gets  up  for  breakfast  now,  on  account  of 
David;  it's  evidently  a  great  undertaking!"  the  doctor 
said  humorously. 

Martha  held  her  lips  hard  together. 

"You  ought  to  hear  her  housekeeping  ideas,"  Will 
iam  rambled  on.  "I  happened  to  say  you  wanted 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

some  lye  for  soap.  She  didn't  know  soap  was  made 
with  lye!  You  would  have  laughed  to  hear  her — " 

But  at  that  the  leash  broke:  "Laughed?  I  hope 
not!  I  hope  I  wouldn't  laugh  because  a  woman  of 
her  age  has  no  more  sense  than  a  child.  And  she  gets 
up  for  breakfast,  does  she?  Well,  why  shouldn't  she 
get  up  for  breakfast  ?  I  am  very  tired,  but  I  get  up 
for  breakfast.  I  don't  mean  to  be  severe,  William, 
and  I  never  am;  I'm  only  just.  But  I  must  say,  flatly 
and  frankly,  that  ignorance  and  laziness  do  not  seem 
funny  to  me.  Laugh  ?  Would  you  laugh  if  I  stayed 
in  bed  in  the  mornings,  and  didn't  know  how  to  make 
soap,  and  save  your  money  for  you?  I  guess  not!" 

The  doctor's  face  reddened  and  he  closed  his  lips 
with  a  snap.  But  Martha  found  no  more  fault  with 
Mrs.  Richie.  After  a  while  she  said  in  that  virtuous 
voice  familiar  to  husbands,  "William,  I  know  you 
don't  like  to  do  it,  so  I  cleaned  all  the  medicine- shelves 
in  your  office  this  morning." 

"Thank  you,"  William  said,  curtly;  and  finished  his 
supper  in  absolute  silence. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DR.  LAVENDAR  was  not  sleeping  very  well  that 
spring.  He  fell  into  the  habit  of  waking  at 
about  three,  just  when  the  birds  begin  the  scattered 
twittering  that  swells  into  full  clamor  and  then  dies 
suddenly  into  silence.  In  that  gray  stillness,  broken 
by  bird-calls,  he  used  to  occupy  himself  by  thinking 
of  his  people. 

"The  name  of  the  large  upper  chamber,  facing  the 
east,  was  Peace."  And  so  this  old  pilgrim  found  it, 
lying  in  his  four-poster,  listening  to  the  cries  &nd  calls 
in  the  jargonelle  pear-tree  in  the  corner  of  the  garden, 
and  watching  the  ghostly  oblong  of  the  window  that 
faced  the  east,  glimmer  and  brighten  into  the  efful 
gence  of  day.  It  was  then,  with  his  old  hands  folded 
on  his  breast,  that  he  thought  about  the  Wrights — all 
three  of  them.  .  .  . 

It  was  a  relief  to  know  that  Mrs.  Richie  would  in 
fluence  Sam  to  put  his  mind  on  his  work ;  if  the  boy 
would  do  that,  his  father  would  be  less  irritated  with 
him.  And  William's  assurance  that  she  would  not 
allow  any  love-making  ought  to  end  his  grandfather's 
worry.  But  while  that  worry  lasted  it  must  be 
utilized.  .  .  . 

The  room  was  slipping  out  of  the  shadows.  Dr. 
Lavendar  could  see  the  outline  of  the  window  dis 
tinctly.  The  bureau  loomed  up  in  the  grayness  like 

134 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

a  rock;  opposite  the  bed,  under  a  high  wooden  mantel, 
was  the  cavernous  blackness  of  the  chimney.  Dr. 
Lavendar  reflected  that  it  must  be  nearly  four.  .  .  . 

The  question  was,  when  should  he  use  this  weapon 
of  Benjamin  Wright's  worry,  on  the  two  hard  hearts  ? 
He  had  made  several  attempts  to  use  it,  only  to  feel 
the  blade  turn  in  his  hand:  He  had  asked  Mr.  Wright 
when  he  was  going  to  talk  things  over  with  Samuel, 
and  the  old  man  had  instantly  declared  that  he  had 
changed  his  mind.  He  had  mentioned  to  his  senior 
warden  that  Benjamin  was  troubled  about  his  grand 
son's  sheep's-eyes,  and  Samuel's  studied  deafness  had 
put  an  end  to  conversation.  So  Dr.  Lavendar  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  a  matter  of  this  kind  cannot 
be  forced.  A  thirty-two-year-old  wound  is  not  to  be 
healed  in  a  day.  He  took  any  chance  that  offered^to 
drop  a  suggestive  word;  but  he  did  not  try  to  hurry 
his  Heavenly  Father.  For  it  was  Dr.  Lavendar's  be 
lief  that  God  was  more  anxious  about  that  reconcilia 
tion  than  he  was.  .  .  . 

A  line  of  light  threaded  its  way  under  the  window- 
curtain,  and  fell  in  a  spot  of  fluid  gold  upon  the  mirror. 
He  watched  it  move  silently  across  the  powdery  sur 
face;  suddenly  another  dimpling  pool  appeared  on  the 
soot  of  the  chimney-back,  and  his  eye  followed  the 
tremulous  beam  to  its  entrance  over  the  top  of  the 
shutter.  The  birds  were  shouting  now  in  full  voice. 
How  fond  Benjamin  was  of  his  poor  caged  creatures! 
Well,  he  had  so  little  else  to  be  fond  of;  "and  I  have 
so  much,"  thought  Dr.  Lavendar,  shamefacedly; — 
"all  my  people.  And  David,  the  rascal!"  Then  he 
chuckled;  Dr.  Lavendar  was  under  the  delusion  that 
he  was  unprejudiced  in  regard  to  David ;  "  a  very  un 
usual  child!"  he  assured  himself,  gravely.  No  wonder 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

Mrs.  Richie  liked  to  have  him. — And  he  would  be  the 
making  of  her!  he  would  shake  her  out  of  her  selfish 
ness.  "Poor  girl,  I  guess,  by  the  way  she  talks,  she 
has  never  known  anything  but  self.  David  will  wake 
her  up.  But  I've  got  to  look  out  that  she  doesn't 
spoil  him."  It  was  this  belief  of  what  David  might 
do  for  Mrs.  Richie  that  had  reconciled  him  to  parting 
with  the  little  boy. 

His  eyes  wandered  to  the  window;  a  glittering  strip 
of  green  light  between  the  bowed  shutters  meant  that 
the  sun  was  in  the  trees.  Yes;  to  be  sure,  for  the 
birds  had  suddenly  stopped  singing. 

Dr.  Lavendar  yawned  and  looked  at  his  watch;  five 
o'clock.  He  would  have  liked  to  get  up,  but  Mary 
would  be  worried  if  she  knew  he  was  awake  so  long 
before  breakfast.  Well;  he  must  try  to  have  a  nap; 
no,  the  room  was  too  light  for  that.  He  could  see  all 
the  furniture;  he  could  count  the  pleats  in  the  sun 
burst  of  the  tester;  he  could,  perhaps,  see  to  read? 
He  put  his  hand  out  for  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  after 
that  he  possessed  his  soul  in  patience  until  he  knew 
that  Mary  would  allow  him  to  come  down-stairs. 

It  was  in  one  of  those  peaceful  dawns  early  in  June 
that  he  decided  that  the  moment  had  come  to  strike  a 
decisive  blow:  he  would  go  and  talk  to  Benjamin  of 
Sam's  Sam,  and  though  truth  demanded  that  he 
should  report  Mrs.  Richie's  good  sense  he  did  not 
mean  to  insist  upon  it  too  much;  Benjamin's  anxiety 
was  the  Lord's  opportunity — so  Dr.  Lavendar  thought. 
He  would  admit  Sam's  sentimentality  and  urge  put 
ting  the  matter  before  his  father.  Then  he  would  pin 
Benjamin  down  to  a  date.  That  secured,  he  would 
present  a  definite  proposal  to  Samuel.  "He  is  the 
lion  in  the  way/'  he  told  himself  anxiously;  "I  am 

136 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

pretty  sure  I  can  manage  Benjamin."  Yet  surely  if 
he  could  only  put  it  properly  to  Samuel,  if  he  could 
express  the  pitiful  trouble  in  the  old  father's  soul,  the 
senior  warden's  heart  would  soften.  "It  must  touch 
him!"  Dr.  Lavendar  thought,  and  closed  his  eyes  for  a 
moment.  .  .  . 

When  he  said  Amen,  the  bird-calls  were  like  flutes  of 
triumph. 

On  his  way  up  the  hill  that  morning,  he  paused 
under  a  great  chestnut  to  talk  to  David  Allison,  who,  a 
strapful  of  books  over  his  shoulder,  was  running  down  the 
path  to  school.  David  was  willing  to  be  detained;  he 
pulled  some  grass  for  Goliath  and  told  Dr.  Lavendar 
that  Mrs.  Richie  had  bought  him  a  pair  of  suspenders. 
"And  I  said  a  bad  word  yesterday,"  he  ended  proudly. 

"Well,  now,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that." 

"It's  been  in  me  a  good  while,"  David  explained, 
"but  yesterday  I  said  it.  It  was  'damn.'" 

"It's  a  foolish  word,  David;  I  never  use  it." 

"You  don't T1  David  said  blankly,  and  all  his  pride 
was  gone.  They  parted  with  some  seriousness;  but 
Dr.  Lavendar  was  still  chuckling  when  he  turned  in 
at  Benjamin  Wright's  neglected  carriage  road  where 
burdocks  and  plantains  grew  rank  between  the  wheel- 
tracks.  As  he  came  up  to  the  house  he  saw  Mr. 
Wright  sitting  out  in  the  sun  on  the  gravel  of  the 
driveway,  facing  his  veranda.  A  great  locust  was 
dropping  its  honey-sweet  blossoms  all  about — on  his 
bent  shoulders,  on  his  green  cashmere  dressing-gown, 
on  his  shrunken  knees,  even  one  or  two  on  the  tall 
beaver  hat.  A  dozen  bird-cages  had  been  placed  in  a 
row  along  the  edge  of  the  veranda,  and  he  was  nib 
bling  orange-skin  and  watching  the  canaries  twittering 
and  hopping  on  their  perches.  As  he  heard  the 

137 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

wheels  of  the  buggy,  he  looked  around,  and  raised  a 
cautioning  hand: 

"Look  out!  You  scare  my  birds.  Rein  in  that 
mettlesome  steed  of  yours!  That  green  cock  was  just 
going  to  take  a  bath." 

Goliath  stopped  at  a  discreet  distance,  and  Dr.  Lav- 
endar  sat  still.  There  was  a  breathless  moment  of 
awaiting  the  pleasure  of  the  green  cock,  who,  balancing 
on  the  edge  of  his  tub,  his  head  on  one  side,  looked 
with  inquisitive  eyes  at  the  two  old  men  before  de 
ciding  to  return  to  his  perch  and  attack  the  cuttle-fish 
stuck  between  the  bars  of  his  cage.  Upon  which  Mr. 
Wright  swore  at  him  with  proud  affection,  and  waved 
his  hand  to  his  visitor. 

"Come  on!  Sorry  I  can't  take  you  indoors.  I  have 
to  sit  out  here  and  watch  these  confounded  fowls  for 
fear  a  cat  will  come  along.  There's  not  a  soul  I  can 
trust  to  attend  to  it,  so  I  have  to  waste  my  valuable 
time.  Sit  down." 

Dr.  Lavendar  clambered  out  of  the  buggy,  and 
came  up  to  the  porch  where  he  was  told  to  "\S7j/" 
while  Mr.  Wright  held  his  breath  to  see  if  the  green 
cock  would  not  bathe,  after  all. 

"That  nigger  of  mine  is  perfectly  useless.  Look  at 
that  perch!  Hasn't  been  cleaned  for  a  week." 

"Yes,  suh;  cleaned  yesterday,  suh,"  Simmons  mur 
mured,  hobbling  up  with  a  handful  of  chickweed 
which  he  arranged  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  cages,  its 
faint  faded  smell  mingling  with  the  heavy  fragrance 
of  the  locust  blossoms. 

"Whiskey!"  Mr.  Wright  commanded. 

"Not  for  me,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  and  there  was 
the  usual  snarl,  during  which  Simmons  disappeared. 
The  whiskey  was  not  produced. 

138 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Lavendar,  look  at  that  cock — the  scoundrel  un 
derstands  every  word  we  say." 

"He  does  look  knowing.  Benjamin,  I  just  dropped 
in  to  tell  you  that  I  think  you  needn't  worry  so  about 
Sam's  Sam.  Your  neighbor  has  promised  Willy  King 
that  she  will  help  us  with  him.  But  I  want  you  to 
talk  the  matter  over  with  Samuel,  and — " 

"My  neighbor?"  the  older  man  interrupted,  his 
lower  lip  dropping  with  dismay.  "Ye  don't  mean — 
the  female  at  the  Stuffed  Animal  House?" 

"Yes;  Mrs.  Richie.  She  will  snub  him  if  it's  neces 
sary,  William  says;  but  she'll  help  us,  by  urging  him 
to  attend  to  his  business.  See?" 

"I  see — more  than  you  do!"  cried  Benjamin  Wright. 
"Much  Willy  King  has  accomplished!  It's  just  what 
I've  always  said; — if  you  want  a  thing  done,  do  it 
yourself.  It's  another  case  of  these  confounded 
canaries.  If  they  are  not  to  be  eaten  up  by  some 
devilish  cat,  I've  got  to  sit  out  here  and  watch  over 
'em.  If  that  boy  is  not  to  be  injured,  I've  got  to 
watch  over  him.  My  neighbor  is  going  to  help? 
Gad-a-mercy!  Help!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  took  off  his  broad-brimmed  felt  hat 
and  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  big  red  bandanna. 
"Benjamin,  what's- got  into  you?  A  little  being  in 
love  won't  hurt  him.  Why,  before  I  was  his  age  I 
had  lost  my  heart  to  my  grandmother's  first  cousin!" 

But  the  older  man  was  not  listening.  His  anger 
had  suddenly  hardened  into  alarm;  he  even  forgot  the 
canaries.  "She's  going  to  help?  Lavendar,  this  is 
serious;  it  is  very  serious.  He's  got  to  be  sent  away! 
1 — if  I  have  to  see" — his  voice  trailed  into  a  whisper; 
he  looked  at  Dr.  Lavendar  with  startled  eyes. 

The  green  cock  hopped  down  into  his  glass  tub  and 

139 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

began  to  ruffle  and  splash,  but  Benjamin  Wright  did 
not  notice  him.  Dr.  Lavendar  beamed.  "You  mean 
you'll  see  his  father?" 

The  very  old  man  nodded.  "Yes;  I'll  have  to  see 
—  my  son." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Dominie,"  said  Mr.  Wright,  "it's  better  to  'make 
your  manners  when  you've  got  your  'baccy/  Yes; 
I'll  have  to  see  —  his  father;  if  there's  no  other  way  of 
getting  him  out  of  town?" 

"Of  course  there's  no  other  way.  Sam  won't  go 
without  his  father's  consent.  But  you  mustn't  make 
play-writing  the  excuse;  you  mustn't  talk  about  that." 

"I  won't  talk  about  anything  else,"  said  Benjamin 
Wright. 

Dr.  Lavendar  sighed,  but  he  did  not  encourage  per 
versity  by  arguing  against  it.  "Benjamin,"  he  said, 
"  I  will  tell  Samuel  of  your  wish  to  see  him  —  " 


Dr.  Lavendar  would  not  notice  the  interruption. 
"Will  you  appoint  the  time?" 

"Oh,  the  sooner  the  better;  get  through  with  it! 
Get  through  with  it!"  He  stared  at  his  visitor  and 
blinked  rapidly;  a  moment  later  he  shook  all  over. 
"Lavendar,  it  will  kill  me!"  He  was  very  frail,  this 
shrunken  old  man  in  the  green  dressing-gown  and 
high  beaver  hat,  with  his  lower  lip  sucked  in  like  a 
frightened  child's.  The  torch  of  life,  blown  so  often 
into  furious  flame  by  hurricanes  of  rage,  had  con 
sumed  itself,  and  it  seemed  now  as  if  its  flicker  might 
be  snuffed  out  by  any  slightest  gust.  "  He  may  come 
up  to-night,"  he  mumbled,  shivering  in  the  hot  sun 
shine  and  the  drift  of  locust  blossoms,  as  if  he  were 
cold. 

140 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"it  can't  be  to-night;  he's  gone  out  West.  He  gets 
back  Saturday.  I'll  send  him  up  Sunday  evening — if 
I  can." 

"  Gad-a-mercy,  Lavendar,"  Benjamin  Wright  said 
whimpering,  "you've  got  to  come,  too!"  He  looked 
at  his  old  friend  with  scared  eyes.  "  I  won't  go  to  the 
gate  with  you.  Can't  leave  these  birds.  I'm  a  slave 
to  'em." 

But  Dr.  Lavendar  saw  that  shaking  legs  were  the 
real  excuse;  and  he  went  away  a  little  soberly  in  spite 
of  his  triumph.  Would  there  be  any  danger  to  Ben 
jamin  from  the  agitation  of  the  interview?  He  must 
ask  Willy  King.  Then  he  remembered  that  the 
doctor  had  started  for  Philadelphia  that  morning;  so 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait.  "I'm  afraid  there's 
some  ri.sk,"  he  thought.  "But  Benjamin  had  better 
die  in  peace  than  live  in  anger.  Oh,  this  play-writing 
business!  If  I  could  only  depend  on  him  to  hold  his 
tongue  about  it ;  but  I  can't."  Then  as  he  and  Goliath 
trudged  along  in  the  sun,  he  gave  himself  up  to  his 
own  rejoicings.  "To  think  I  was  afraid  to  let  him 
know  that  Mrs.  Richie  could  be  depended  upon  to 
help  us!"  He  looked  up  as  if  in  smiling  confession  to 
some  unseen  Friend.  "Yes,  indeed;  'He  taketh  the 
wise  in  their  own  craftiness.'  It  was  the  promise  of 
Mrs.  Richie's  help  that  scared  him  into  it!  I  won't 
be  so  crafty  next  time,"  he  promised  in  loving  peni 
tence. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  the  stage,  the  day  he  started  for  Philadelphia, 
William  King  read  over  his  Martha's  memorandum 
with  the  bewildered  carefulness  peculiar  to  good  hus 
bands:  ten  yards  of  crash;  a  pitcher  for  sorghum; 
samples  of  yarn;  an  ounce  of  sachet -powder,  and  so 
forth. 

"Now,  what  on  earth  does  she  want  sachet-powder 
for?"  he  reflected.  But  he  did  not  reflect  long;  it 
suddenly  came  into  his  mind  that  though  Mrs.  Richie 
had  not  given  him  any  commission,  he  could  never 
theless  do  something  for  her.  He  could  go,  when  he 
was  in  Philadelphia,  and  call  on  her  brother.  "  How 
pleased  she'll  be!"  he  said  to  himself.  Naturally, 
with  this  project  in  mind,  he  gave  no  more  thought  to 
sachet -powders.  He  decided  that  he  would  turn  tip 
at  Mr.  Pryor's  house  at  six  o'clock;  and  Pryor  would 
ask  him  to  supper.  It  would  save  time  to  do  that, 
and  he  needed  to  save  time,  for  this  one  day  in  Phila 
delphia  was  to  be  very  busy.  He  had  those  errands 
for  Martha,  and  two  medical  appointments,  and  a 
visit  to  the  tailor, — for  of  late  William  thought  a  good 
deal  about  his  clothes  and  discovered  that  he  was  very 
shabby.  He  wished  he  had  asked  Mrs.  ELichie  for  her 
brother's  address;  it  took  so  long  to  look  it  up  in  the 
Directory!  Happily,  the  first  name  was  unusual; 
there  was  only  one  Lloyd,  or  he  would  have  given  up 

142 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

the  search.  He  could  not  have  called  on  all  the  Johns 
or  Thomases! 

What  with  matching  the  yarn,  and  getting  his  drugs, 
and  being  terribly  cowed  by  the  tailor,  William  had  a 
hurried  day.  However,  he  managed  to  reach  Mr. 
Lloyd  Pryor's  house  as  the  clock  struck  six.  "Just  in 
good  time,"  he  said  to  himself,  complacently.  In 
deed,  he  was  ahead  of  time,  for  it  appeared  that  Mr. 
Pryor  had  not  yet  come  home. 

"But  Miss  Alice  is  in,  sir,"  the  smiling  darky  an 
nounced. 

"Very  well,"  said  Wiliam  King;  "tell  her  'Dr. 
King,  from  Old  Chester.'"  He  followed  the  man  into 
a  parlor  that  seemed  to  the  country  doctor  very 
splendid,  and  while  he  waited,  he  looked  about  with 
artless  curiosity,  thinking  that  he  must  tell  Martha  of 
all  this  grandeur.  "No  wonder  she  thinks  we  are 
stupid  people  in  Old  Chester,"  he  thought.  Now,  cer 
tainly  Martha  had  never  had  so  disloyal  a  thought! 
At  that  moment  he  heard  a  girlish  step,  and  Lloyd 
Pryor's  daughter  came  into  the  room,  —  a  pretty 
young  creature,  with  blond  hair  parted  over  a  candid 
brow,  and  sweet,  frank  eyes. 

"  Dr.  King  ?"  she  said  smiling. 

"Doesn't  resemble  her  in  the  least,"  the  doctor 
thought,  getting  on  his  feet,  and  putting  out  a  friendly 
hand.  "I  am  just  in  from  Old  Chester,"  he  said, 
"and  I  thought  I'd  come  and  say  how-do-you-do  to 
your  father,  and  tell  you  the  latest  news  of  Mrs. 
Richie—" 

The  front  door  banged,  and  Lloyd  Pryor  pushed 
aside  the  curtain.  —  William  had  wondered  what 
Martha  would  say  to  a  curtain  instead  of  a  door! 
His  blank  panic  as  he  heard  the  doctor's  last  word, 

143 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

turned  his  face  white.     ("Bad  heart?"  William  asked 
himself.) 

"Dr.  King!     Alice,  you  needn't  wait." 

Alice,  nodding  pleasantly,  left  them,  and  her  father, 
setting  his  teeth,  looked  out  through  his  curling  eye 
lashes  with  deadly  intentness. 

"Thought  I'd  come  in  and  say  how-do-you-do?" 
William  King  said,  hungry  and  friendly,  but  a  little 
bewildered. 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pryor. 

William  put  out  his  hand ;  there  was  a  second's  hesi 
tation,  then  Lloyd  Pryor  took  it  — •  and  dropped  it 
quickly. 

"All  well?"  the  doctor  asked  awkwardly. 

"  Yes ;  yes.     All  well.     Very  well,  thank  you.     Yes." 

"  I  was  just  passing.  I  thought  perhaps  your  sister 
would  be  pleased  if  I  inquired;  she  didn't  know  I  was 
coming,  but — " 

"You  are  very  kind,  I'm  sure,"  the  other  broke  in, 
his  face  relaxing.  "I  am  sorry  that  just  at  this  mo 
ment  I  can't  ask  you  to  stay,  but — " 

"Certainly  not,"  William  King  said  shortly;  "I  was 
just  passing.  If  you  have  any  message  for  Mrs. 
Richie — " 

"Oh!  Ah; — yes.  Remember  me  to  her.  All  well 
in  Old  Chester  ?  Very  kind  in  you  to  look  me  up.  I 
am  sorry  I — that  it  happens  that — good-by — " 

Dr.  King  nodded  and  took  himself  off;  and  Lloyd 
Pryor,  closing  the  door  upon  him,  wiped  the  moisture 
from  his  forehead.  "Alice,  where  are  you?" 

"In  the  dining-room,  daddy  dear,"  she  said.  "Who 
is  Dr.  King?" 

He  gave  her  a  furtive  look  and  then  put  his  arm 
over  her  shoulder.  "Nobody  you  know,  Kitty." 

144 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"He  said  something  about  'Mrs.  Richie'; — who  is 
Mrs.  Richie?" 

"Some  friend  of  his,  probably.  Got  anything  good 
for  dinner,  sweetheart?" 

As  for  William  King,  he  walked  briskly  down  the 
street,  his  face  very  red.  "Confound  him!"  he  said. 
He  was  conscious  of  a  desire  to  kick  something.  That 
evening,  after  a  bleak  supper  at  a  marble-topped  res 
taurant  table,  he  tried  to  divert  himself  by  going  to 
see  a  play ;  he  saw  so  many  other  things  that  he  came 
out  in  the  middle  of  it.  "I  guess  I  can  get  all  the 
anatomy  I  want  in  my  trade,"  he  told  himself;  and 
sat  down  in  the  station  to  await  the  midnight  train. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  afternoon,  when  he  climbed 
into  the  stage  at  Mercer  and  piled  his  own  and  Martha's 
bundles  on  the  rack  above  him,  that  he  really  settled 
down  to  think  the  thing  over.  .  .  .  What  did  it  mean  ? 
The  man  had  been  willing  to  eat  his  bread;  he  had 
shown  no  offence  at  anything;  what  the  deuce — !  He 
pondered  over  it,  all  the  way  to  Old  Chester.  When 
Martha,  according  to  the  custom  of  wives,  inquired 
categorically  concerning  his  day  in  Philadelphia,  he 
dragged  out  most  irritatingly  vague  answers.  As  she 
did  not  chance  to  ask,  "Did  you  hunt  up  Mr.  Lloyd 
Pryor?  Did  you  go  to  his  house?  Did  you  expect 
an  invitation  and  not  receive  it?"  she  was  not  in 
formed  on  these  topics.  But  when  at  last  she  did 
say,  "And  my  sachet-powder?"  he  was  compelled  to 
admit  that  he  had  forgotten  it. 

Martha's  lip  tightened. 

"I  got  the  lye  and  stuff,"  her  husband  defended 
himself.  "And  what  did  you  want  sachet-powder  for, 
anyway?" 

But  Martha  was  silent. 

'45 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

After  supper  William  strolled  over  to  Dr.  Laven- 
dar's,  and  sat  smoking  stolidly  for  an  hour  before  he 
unbosomed  himself.  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  notice  his 
uncommunicativeness ;  he  had  his  own  preoccupations. 

"William,  Benjamin  Wright  seems  to  be  a  good 
deal  shaken  this  spring?" 

Silence. 

"He's  allowed  himself  to  grow  old.     Bad  habit." 

Silence. 

"Got  out  of  the  way  of  doing  things.  Hasn't 
walked  down  the  hill  and  back  for  three  years.  He 
told  me  so  himself." 

"Indeed,  sir?" 

"For  my  part,"  Dr.  Lavendar  declared,  "I  have 
made  a  rule  about  such  things,  which  I  commend  to 
you,  young  man:  As  soon  as  you  feel  too  old  to  do  a 
thing,  DO  IT!" 

William  gave  the  expected  laugh. 

"But  he  does  seem  shaken.  Now,  would  it  be  safe, 
do  you  think,  for  him  to — well,  very  much  excited? 
Possibly  angered?" 

"It  wouldn't  take  much  to  anger  Mr.  Wright." 

"No,  it  wouldn't,"  Dr.  Lavendar  admitted.  "Will 
iam,  suppose  I  could  induce  Samuel  and  his  father  to 
meet — " 

"What!"  The  doctor  woke  up  at  that;  he  sat  on 
the  edge  of  his  chair,  his  hands  on  his  knees,  his  eyes 
starting  in  his  head.  "What!" 

"Well,  suppose  I  could?"  Dr.  Lavendar  said.  "I 
have  a  notion  to  try  it.  I  don't  know  that  I'll  suc 
ceed.  But  suppose  they  met,  and  things  shouldn't 
run  smoothly,  and  there  should  be  an  explosion — • 
would  there  be  danger  to  Benjamin?" 

William   King  whistled.     "After  all  these  years!" 
146 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Then  he  reflected.  "Well,  of  course,  sir,  he  is  an  old 
man.  But  he  is  like  iron,  Dr.  Lavendar.  When  he 
had  quinsy  two  years  ago,  I  thought  he  had  come  to 
the  end.  Not  a  bit  of  it!  He's  iron.  Only,  of  course, 
anger  is  a  great  drain.  Better  caution  Sam  not  to 
cross  him." 

"Then  there  would  be  some  danger?" 

"I  shouldn't  like  to  see  him  get  into  a  rage,"  the 
doctor  admitted.  "  But  why  should  he  get  into  a  rage, 
if  they  are  going  to  patch  things  up?  Good  Lord!" 
said  William  King,  gaping  with  astonishment ;  "  at  last!" 

"I  haven't  said  they  would  patch  things  up.  But 
there  is  a  chance  that  I  can  get  'em  to  talk  over  Ben 
jamin's  anxiety  about  Sam's  Sam.  Fact  is,  Benjamin 
is  disturbed  about  the  boy's  sheep's-eyes.  Sam  thinks, 
you  know,  that  he  is  in  love  with  Mrs.  Richie,  and — " 

"In  love  with  Mrs.  Richie!"  William  broke  in 
angrily.  "The  idea  of  his  bothering  Mrs.  Richie!  it's 
outrageous.  I  don't  wonder  Mr.  Wright  is  concerned. 
It's  disgraceful.  He  ought  to  be  thrashed!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  drew  a  quick  breath  and  let  his  pipe- 
hand  fall  heavily  on  the  table  beside  him.  "No, 
William,  no;  not  thrashed.  Not  thrashed,  William." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  the  doctor  said,  doggedly; 
"it  might  do  him  good;  a  squirt  of  a  boy!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  sighed.  They  smoked  silently  for  a 
while,  and,  indeed,  it  was  not  until  it  was  almost 
time  to  go  home  that  William  burst  out  with  his  own 
wrongs. 

"Confound  him!"  he  ended,  "what  do  you  make  of 
it,  sir?  Why,  Dr.  Lavendar,  he  sent  his  girl  out  of 
the  room — didn't  want  her  to  talk  to  me!  You'd 
have  thought  I  was  a  case  of  measles.  His  one  idea 
was  to  get  rid  of  me  as  quickly  as  possible." 

147 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar  thrust  out  his  lower  lip;  then  he 
scratched  a  match  on  the  bottom  of  his  chair,  and 
held  it  out  to  Danny,  who  came  forward  with  instant 
curiosity,  sniffed,  sneezed,  and  plainly  hurt,  retired  to 
the  hearth-rug. 

"William,  'a  moral,  sensible  and  well-bred  man  will 
not  affront—'" 

"I'm  not  feeling  affronted." 

"Oh,  aren't  you?" 

"No,"  William  declared  boldly,  "not  at  ail;  not  in 
the  least!  He's  not  worth  it.  But  I'm  all  mixed  up." 

"Daniel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "how  dare  you  lie  on 
the  rug?  Willy,  when  I  was  young — I  mean  when  I 
was  younger — we  children  were  never  allowed  to  come 
nearer  the  fire  than  the  outside  edge  of  the  hearth-rug. 
I  feel  wicked  now,  whenever  I  come  over  that  edge. 
But  look  at  that  scoundrel  Danny!" 

Danny  opened  one  eye  and  beat  his  stub  of  a  tail 
softly  on  the  rug.  William  King  was  silent.  Dr.  Lav 
endar  began  to  sing: 

"Queen  Victoria's  very  sick; 

Napoleon's  got  the  measles. 
Why  don't  you  take  Sebastopol? 
Pop  goes  the  weasel!" 

"Dr.  Lavendar,  why  do  you  keep  trying  to  change 
the  subject  ?  What  do  you  think  about  Mrs.  Richie's 
brother?" 

"Well,  Willy,  my  boy,  I  think  he's  not  given  to 
hospitality." 

"Ah,  now,  no  shenanigan!"  poor  William  pleaded. 
"Do  you  suppose  he's  up  to  some  monkey-shines? 
Do  you  suppose  I  took  him  unawares,  and  he  was 
afraid  to  entertain  me?" 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar  chuckled.  " 'Fraid  he  might  enter 
tain  a  Recording  Angel  unawares?" 

William  shook  his  head.  "There  was  something 
wrong,  or  I  don't  know  human  nature." 

"Willy,  if  you  do  know  human  nature,  you  are  the 
only  living  man  who  does.  But,  perhaps,  now,  it 
really  wasn't  convenient?" 

"Convenient!"  William  burst  out.  "In  Old  Chester 
we  don't  talk  about  convenience  when  a  man  knocks 
at  the  door  at  supper-time!" 

"But  Philadelphia  isn't  Old  Chester,"  Dr.  Lavendar 
reminded  him,  mildly.  "When  you've  seen  as  much 
of  the  world  as  I  have,  you'll  realize  that.  I  once 
was  short  of  my  railroad  fare  in  New  York.  I — well, 
a  poor  creature  asked  me  for  some  money  to  buy  a 
coat.  It  was  a  dreadfully  cold  day.  It  left  me  just 
three  dollars  short  of  my  fare  home;  so  I  stepped  into 
the  Bible  House — you  know  the  Bible  House? — and 
just  stated  the  case  to  the  head  clerk,  and  said  I 
would  be  obliged  if  he  would  lend  me  the  amount. 
Willy,"  Dr.  Lavendar  got  very  red;  "I  assure  you — " 

"You  don't  say  so,  sir!"  said  William  King  respect 
fully;  but  he  bent  down  and  pulled  Danny's  ear. 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "yes,  indeed!  I  will 
not  repeat  what  he  said;  you  would  be  indignant.  I 
just  mention  the  circumstance  to  show  you  how  dif 
ferently  people  look  at  things.  If  any  gentleman  got 
into  such  a  fix  in  Old  Chester,  of  course  he  would  just 
speak  to  Sam  Wright,  or  you,  or  me.  Or  take  your 
own  case;  if  any  stranger  came  on  business  at  dinner 
time,  you  would  say,  'Sit  down,  sir'!" 

William  thought  of  Martha  and  moved  uneasily  in 
his  chair. 

"But,"  proceeded  Dr.  Lavendar,  "it  is  not  so  every- 
149 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

where.  Convenience  is  considered.  It  isn't  hospita 
ble;  but  you  can't  say  it's  wicked?" 

"Dr.  Lavendar,"  said  William  King,  "you  don't 
believe  that  was  the  reason." 

The  old  minister  sighed.  "I'm  afraid  I  don't,  my 
boy;  but  I  thought  maybe  you  might." 

"No,  sir!  There's  something  wrong  with  that  fel 
low.  I  don't  mean  to  judge,  but  somehow,  instinc 
tively,  I  don't  trust  him." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "I  wouldn't  judge;  but 
— I'd  trust  my  instincts." 

William  grinned;  then  he  sighed.  "I  won't  tell 
Mrs.  Richie  about  seeing  him.  She'd  be  mortified  at 
his  behavior.  If  she  knew  as  much  of  the  wickedness 
of  the  world  as  we  do,  she  might  even  be  suspicious! 
But,  thank  God,  she's  not  that  kind  of  a  woman.  I 
don't  like  worldly-wise  ladies." 

Dr.  Lavendar  nodded.  "Black  sheep  can  pull  the 
wool  over  people's  eyes  better  than  white  ones  can. 
Do  you  know,  one  reason  why  I  hesitated  about  let 
ting  her  have  David,  was  just  because  I  didn't  take 
to  her  brother?  For  that  matter,  David  doesn't  take 
to  him  either;  — and  Danny  can't  abide  him.  And 
William,  I  have  a  great  respect  for  the  judgment  of 
my  betters  in  such  matters!  Yes;  I  almost  kept  the 
little  monkey  myself;  but  I  suppose  it's  better  for  him 
to  be  with  a  woman?" 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  William  King,  and  Dr.  Lav- 
endar's  face  fell.  "I  think  she  wants  to  adopt  him," 
William  added. 

Dr.  Lavendar  shook  his  head.  "  I  haven't  made  up 
my  mind  about  that  yet.  Not  only  because  of  the 
brother; — he  comes  so  rarely  he  doesn't  count.  But  I 
want  to  make  sure  she  can  be  trusted  to  bring  a  child  up." 

150 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  don't  think  there  could  be  a  better  person,"  the 
doctor  declared,  warmly.  "She  has  a  lovely  nature." 

"A  pretty  creature,"  Dr.  Lavendar  ruminated; 
"Martha  fond  of  her?" 

"Oh,  yes  indeed,"  William  said  enthusiastically; — • 
"at  least,  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  happened  to  hear 
her  speak  of  it;  but  of  course  she  is.  Nobody  could 
help  it.  She  is  a  sweet  woman,  as  you  say." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "get  Martha  to  be 
neighborly  with  her.  She  needs  neighboring.  And 
Martha  could  teach  her  so  many  things — she's  such  a 
sensible  woman." 

"Yes;  Martha  is  sensible,"  William  agreed.  "Dr. 
Lavendar,  did  you  ever  notice  how,  when  she  laughs, 
she  has  a  way  of  putting  her  hands  on  the  top  of  her 
head,  and  sort  of  drawing  them  down  over  her  eyes 
like  a  girl?  It's  as  pretty!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  tried  to  remember.  "Why,  no,"  he 
said;  "I  don't  know  that  I  ever  noticed  it.  Martha 
doesn't  laugh  very  often." 

"  Martha  ?"  William  repeated  puzzled.  "  Oh — I  was 
speaking  of  Mrs.  Richie." 

"Oh,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 


CHAPTER  XV 

EVERY  Sunday  morning  Mr.  Samuel  Wright  and 
Mr.  Thomas  Dilworth  —  the  one  pale  and  pom 
pous,  the  other  rosy  and  smiling — took  up  the  collec 
tion  in  St.  Michael's.  A  mahogany  pole  with  a  black 
velvet  pouch  on  one  end,  was  thrust  solemnly  into 
each  pew,  then  drawn  back  with  very  personal  pauses 
— which  were  embarrassing  if  you  had  forgotten  to 
put  some  change  into  your  glove  before  starting  for 
church.  When  these  poles  had  raked  every  pew,  they 
were  carried  up  the  aisle  to  Dr.  Lavendar,  who,  taking 
hold  of  the  purple  tassel  on  the  bottom  of  each  bag, 
turned  the  contents  into  a  silver  plate.  The  change 
came  out  with  a  fine  clatter ;  we  children  used  to  keep 
awake  on  purpose  to  hear  it.  Once  in  a  while  a  bill 
would  rustle  out  with  the  silver  and  balance  on  the 
top  of  the  little  heap  in  such  an  exciting  way  that  Dr. 
Lavendar  had  to  put  his  hand  over  it  to  keep  it  from 
blowing  off  as  he  carried  the  plate  to  the  communion 
table — we  did  not  say  " altar"  in  Old  Chester.  This 
done,  Mr.  Wright  and  Mr.  Dilworth  would  tiptoe 
solemnly  back  to  their  respective  pews.  When  the 
service  was  over  the  senior  warden  always  counted 
the  money.  On  this  summer  Sunday  morning,  when 
he  went  into  the  vestry  for  that  purpose,  he  found  Dr. 
Lavendar  just  hanging  up  his  black  gown  behind  the 
door. 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Dr.  Lavendar,"  said  the  senior  warden,  "you  will, 
I  am  sure,  be  pleased  when  I  inform  you  that  there  is 
a  good  collection.  Mrs.  Richie  put  in  a  five-dollar  bill." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "we  need  it.  Your 
father  sent  me  a  check  the  other  day;  but  we  need 
some  more." 

Mr.  Wright  did  not  comment  upon  his  father's  gen 
erosity;  instead,  he  slid  the  money  from  the  silver 
plate  on  to  the  table  and  began  to  count  it.  Dr.  Lav 
endar  looked  at  him  over  his  spectacles;  when  only 
half  a  dozen  coppers  were  left,  he  said  suddenly: 

"Samuel!" 

The  senior  warden  looked  up;  "Yes,  sir?" 

"Samuel,  your  father  has  spoken  to  me  of  you." 

Mr.  Wright  looked  down;  then  he  slowly  picked  up 
the  last  penny. 

"Yes;  he  spoke  of  you.  Samuel,  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you  of  a  very  serious  nature." 

"We  have  nine  dollars  and  seventy-seven  cents," 
said  the  senior  warden. 

"Your  father,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "has  expressed 
a  willingness  to  see  you." 

Mr.  Wright  put  the  money  into  a  small  canvas  bag, 
and  pulling  the  drawing-string  up,  wound  it  round 
and  round  the  top;  his  hands  trembled. 

"He  has  some  concern  about  your  Sam — as  you 
have  yourself.  He  is  disturbed  because  the  boy  has 
lost  his  heart  to  your  tenant,  Mrs.  Richie." 

"Call  it  twelve  dollars,"  Samuel  said,  embarrassed 
to  the  point  of  munificence.  He  put  the  canvas  bag 
in  his  pocket,  and  rose.  "I'll  deposit  this  to-morrow, 
sir,"  he  added,  as  he  had  added  every  Sunday  morn 
ing  for  the  last  twenty  years. 

"Samuel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  sternly,  "sit  down!" 
J53 


tHE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

With  involuntary  haste  the  senior  warden  sat  down, 
but  he  would  not  look  at  Dr.  Lavendar.  "It  is  not 
my  purpose  or  desire,"  he  said,  "to  be  disrespectful, 
but  I  must  request  you,  sir — " 

"To  mind  my  own  business?  I  will,  Sam,  I  will! 
My  business  is  to  admonish  you:  Leave  there  thy  gift 
before  the  altar,  and  go  thy  way.  First,  be  reconciled  to 
thy  brother,  and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift." 

Samuel  Wright  cleared  his  throat.  "I  cannot,  Dr. 
Lavendar,  discuss  this  matter  with  you.  I  must  be 
my  own  judge." 

"I  have  heard  that  a  man  might  be  his  own  law 
yer,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  smiling;  "but  you  can't  be 
your  own  judge.  The  Christian  religion  judges  you, 
Samuel,  and  convicts  you.  Your  father  is  willing  to 
see  you;  he  has  taken  the  first  step.  Think  what  that 
means  to  a  man  like  your  father!  Now  listen  to  me; 
I  want  to  tell  you  what  it's  all  about." 

"I  have  no  desire,  sir,  to  be  informed.     I — " 

Dr.  Lavendar  checked  him  gently:  "I  am  sure  you 
will  listen,  Samuel,  no  matter  what  your  decision  may 
be."  Then,  very  cautiously,  he  began  about  young 
Sam.  "Your  father  thinks  he  ought  to  get  away  from 
Old  Chester;  he's  worried  because  of  Mrs.  Richie." 

"You  know  my  sentiments,  sir,  in  regard  to  my 
son's  idiocy." 

"Oh,  come,  come!  Falling  in  love  is  a  harmless 
amusement,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "but  your  father 
does  take  it  a  good  deal  to  heart.  He  wants  to  get 
him  out  of  town.  However,  to  send  him  away  with 
out  letting  him  know  why,  is  difficult;  and  the  last 
thing  would  be  to  let  him  think  we  take  his  love- 
making  seriously!  Therefore  your  father  thinks  some 
kind  of  excuse  has  to  be  made." 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Here  Dr.  Lavendar  became  elaborately  casual;  he 
had  decided  that  he  must  prepare  his  senior  warden 
for  a  possible  reference  to  a  dangerous  topic.  "He 
mustn't  be  taken  unawares,"  Dr.  Lavendar  had  told 
himself.  But  he  quailed,  now  that  the  moment  of 
preparation  had  come.  "Your  father  thinks  the  ex 
cuse  might  be  the  finding  a  publisher  for  some  poetry 
that  Sam  has  written." 

Samuel  Wright's  large  pallid  face  suddenly  twitched; 
his  dull  eyes  blazed  straight  at  Dr.  Lavendar;  "Find 
ing  a  publisher  —  for  poetry!  Dr.  Lavendar,  rather 
than  have  my  son  encouraged  in  making  what  you  call 
'poetry/  I'd  let  him  board  at  Mrs.  Richie's!" 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  easily,  "never  mind 
about  his  poetry ;  your  father  has  an  idea  that  life  in  a 
small  place  with  only  your  own  interests,  is  narrow 
ing;  and  I  guess  he's  right  to  some  extent.  Anyway 
this  project  of  a  journey  isn't  a  bad  one.  Sam  has 
never  been  further  from  his  mother's  apron-string  in 
his  life,  than  Mercer." 

"My  dear  Dr.  Lavendar,"  said  Samuel,  pompously, 
"a  boy  attached  to  that  string  will  never  have  the 
chance  to  fall  into  temptation." 

"My  dear  Samuel,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "a  boy  at 
tached  to  that  string  may  never  have  the  chance  to 
overcome  temptation  —  which  would  be  almost  as 
serious.  I  tell  you,  Sam,  safety  that  depends  on  an 
apron-string  is  very  unsafe!" 

"My  son  is  not  to  be  trusted,  sir." 

"Samuel!"  Dr.  Lavendar  protested  with  indigna 
tion,  "how  can  he  become  worthy  of  trust  without 
being  trusted?  You  have  no  more  right  to  shut  up  a 
grown  man  in  Old  Chester  for  fear  of  temptation,  than 
you  would  have  to  keep  a  growing  boy  in  his  first  p.air 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

of  trousers!  Why,  Sam,  there  isn't  any  virtue  where 
there  has  never  been  any  temptation.  Virtue  is  just 
temptation,  overcome.  Hasn't  that  ever  struck  you  ? 
However,  that's  not  the  point.  The  point  is,  that 
your  father  has  expressed  a  willingness  to  meet  you." 

Mr.  Wright  made  no  answer. 

"He  will  talk  over  with  you  this  matter  of  Sam's 
falling  in  love.  Whether  you  agree  with  him  that  the 
boy  should  go  away,  is  not  important.  What  is  im 
portant  is  his  desire  to  see  you." 

"I  said,"  Samuel  Wright  broke  out,  with  a  violence 
that  made  Dr.  Lavendar  start — "  I  said  I  would  never 
speak  to  him  again!  I  took  my  oath.  I  cannot 
break  my  oath.  'He  that  sweareth  to  his  own  hurt, 
and  changeth  not — '" 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  '"to  his  own  hurt,'  but 
not  to  somebody  else's  hurt.  You  swore  to  your 
father's,  to  your  children's,  to  the  community's  hurt. 
Change  as  quickly  as  you  can.  Come  up  the  hill  with 
me  to-night." 

"I  can't,"  Samuel  Wright  said  hoarsely,  and  into 
his  hard  eyes  came  the  same  look  of  childish  terror 
that  the  old  minister  had  seen  in  Benjamin  Wright's 
face  when  he  sat  in  the  hot  sunshine  watching  the 
canaries. 

Then  Dr.  Lavendar  began  to  plead 

It  was  a  long  struggle.  Sometimes  it  really  seemed 
as  if,  as  the  senior  warden  had  said,  he  "could  not" 
do  it ;  as  if  it  were  a  physical  impossibility.  And  there 
is  no  doubt  that  to  change  a  habit  of  thought  which 
has  endured  for  thirty-two  years  involves  a  physical 
as  well  as  a  spiritual  effort,  which  may  cause  abso 
lute  anguish.  Mr.  Wright's  face  was  white;  twice  he 
wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead ;  half  a  dozen 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

times  he  said  in  an  agonized  tone,  "I  cannot  do  it;  I 
cannot." 

"Samuel,  your  father  is  very  old;  he  is  very  feeble; 
but  he  has  had  the  strength  to  take  the  first  step. 
Haven't  you  the  strength  to  take  the  second?  Will 
you  carry  your  wicked  quarrel  to  his  grave?  No, 
Sam,  no!  I  am  sure  you  won't."  .  .  . 

An  hour  later,  when  Dr.  Lavendar  sat  down  to  a 
dinner  of  more  than  ordinary  Sunday  coldness,  his 
old  face  was  twinkling  with  pleasure.  Samuel  had 
promised  to  go  with  him  that  night  to  The  Top!  Per 
haps  as  the  still  afternoon  softened  into  dusk  his  joy 
began  to  cast  a  shadow  of  apprehension.  If  so,  he  re 
fused  to  notice  it.  It  was  the  Lord's  business,  and 
"  He  moves  in  a  mysterious  way,"  he  hummed  to  him 
self,  waiting  in  the  warm  darkness  for  Samuel  to  call 
for  him, — for  both  the  quailing  men  had  made  Dr.  Lav- 
endar's  presence  a  condition  of  the  interview. 

At  half-past  seven  Mr.  Wright  arrived.  He  was  in 
a  shiny  box-buggy,  behind  a  smart  sorrel.  He  was 
dressed  in  his  black  and  solemn  best,  and  he  wore  his 
high  hat  with  a  flat  brim  which  only  came  out  at 
funerals.  His  dignity  was  so  tremendous  that  his 
great  bulk  seemed  to  take  even  more  than  its  share  of 
room  in  the  buggy.  When  he  spoke,  it  was  with  a 
laboriousness  that  crushed  the  breath  out  of  any  pos 
sible  answer.  As  they  drove  up  the  hill  he  cleared  his 
throat  every  few  minutes.  Once  he  volunteered  the 
statement  that  he  had  told  Sam  not  to  stay  late  at — 
at— 

"Oh,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "your  father  will  pack 
him  off; — he  will  probably  take  the  opportunity  to 
call  on  Mrs.  Richie,"  he  added  smiling.  But  Sam's 
father  did  not  smile.  And,  indeed,  Dr.  Lavendar's 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

own  face  was  sober  when  they  turned  in  between  the 
sagging  old  gate-posts  at  The  Top. 

When  the  moment  came  to  get  out  of  the  buggy, 
Samuel  looked  at  his  companion  dumbly;  a  sort  of 
paralysis  seemed  to  hold  him  in  his  seat.  When  he 
did  move,  Dr.  Lavendar  heard  him  gasp  for  breath, 
and  in  the  darkness,  as  he  hitched  the  sorrel  to  a  staple 
in  one  of  the  big  locusts,  his  face  went  white.  The 
large  manner  which  had  dominated  Old  Chester  for  so 
many  years  was  shrinking  and  shrivelling;  the  whole 
man  seemed,  somehow,  smaller.  .  .  . 

Benjamin  Wright,  in  his  mangy  beaver  hat,  sitting 
quaking  in  his  library,  heard  their  steps  on  the  veranda. 
As  soon  as  supper  was  over,  he  had  dismissed  his  re 
joicing  grandson,  and  long  before  it  was  necessary,  had 
bidden  Simmons  Kght  the  lamps;  but  as  night  fell,  it 
occurred  to  him  that  darkness  would  make  things 
easier,  and  in  a  panic,  he  shuffled  about  and  blew 
them  all  out.  A  little  later,  he  had  a  surge  of  terror; 
he  couldn't  bear  that  voice  in  the  dark! 

"You!  Simmons!"  he  called  across  the  hall. 
"Light  the  lamps!" 

"I  done  lit  'em,  suh — "  Simmons  expostulated  from 
the  pantry,  and  then  looked  blankly  at  the  black  door 
way  of  the  library.  "I  'clare  to  goodness,  they's  gone 
out,"  he  mumbled  to  himself;  and  came  in,  to  stand 
on  one  leg  and  scratch  a  match  on  the  sole  of  his 
carpet  slipper. 

"Don't  light  all  four,  you  stupid  nigger!"  the  old 
man  screamed  at  him. 

When  Simmons  left  him  he  lit  a  cigar,  his  fingers 
trembling  very  much ;  it  went  out  almost  at  once,  and 
he  threw  it  away  and  took  another.  Just  as  he  heard 
that  ponderous  step  on  the  veranda,  he  took  a  third — 

158 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

but  only  to  throw  it,  too,  still  smouldering,  into  the 
empty  fireplace. 

Dr.  Lavendar  came  in  first.  His  face  was  very 
grave;  he  made  no  conventional  pretence  of  ease.  Be 
hind  him,  in  the  doorway,  loomed  the  other  figure. 
Out  in  the  hall,  Simmons,  his  bent  old  back  flattened 
against  the  wall,  his  jaw  chattering  with  amazement, 
stood,  clutching  at  the  door-knob  and  staring  after 
the  visitors. 

"Come  in!"  said  Benjamin  Wright.  "Hello,  Lav 
endar.  Hello—" 

Alas!  at  that  moment  Samuel's  cracked  and  patched- 
up  self-respect  suddenly  crumbled; — his  presence  of 
mind  deserted  him,  and  scrambling  like  an  embar 
rassed  boy  into  a  marked  discourtesy,  he  thrust  both 
hands  into  his  pockets.  Instantly  he  realized  his  self- 
betrayal,  but  it  was  too  late;  his  father,  after  a  sec 
ond's  hesitation,  occupied  both  his  hands  with  the  de 
canter  and  cigar-box. 

"Well;  here  we  are,  Benjamin!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Take  a  cigar,"  said  the  very  old  man;  he  held  the 
box  out,  and  it  shook  so  that  the  loose  cigars  jarred 
within  it.  Dr.  Lavendar  helped  himself.  "Have 
one — "  Benjamin  Wright  said,  and  thrust  the  box  at 
the  silent  standing  figure. 

"I — do  not  smoke."  Samuel  slid  into  a  seat  near 
the  door,  and  balancing  his  hat  carefully  on  his  knees 
twisted  one  leg  about  the  leg  of  his  chair. 

His  father  bustled  around  to  the  other  side  of  the 
table.  "That  doggoned  nigger  brought  up  Kentucky 
instead  of  Monongahela!"  He  lifted  the  decanter  and 
began  to  fill  the  glasses. 

"Hold  on!  hold  on!  Don't  swamp  us,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar.  He  leaned  over  to  rescue  his  tumbler,  and 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

his  good-natured  scolding  made  an  instant's  break  in 
the  intensity. 

"Have  some?"  said  Mr.  Wright,  turning  to  his  son. 

"I — do  not  drink."  The  banker  uncoiled  his  leg, 
and  put  his  hat  on  the  floor. 

His  father  pounded  the  decanter  down  on  the  table. 
" Simmons!"  he  called  out;  "light  the  rest  of  these 
lamps,  you — you  freckled  nigger!  Gad-a-mercy!  nig 
gers  have  no  sense." 

Simmons  came  stumbling  in,  the  whites  of  his  yel 
low  eyes  gleaming  with  excitement.  While  he  was 
fumbling  over  the  lamps,  his  lean  brown  fingers  all 
thumbs,  Benjamin  Wright  insisted  upon  fill'ng  Dr. 
Lavendar's  tumbler  with  whiskey  until  it  overflowed 
and  had  to  be  sopped  up  by  the  old  minister's  red 
bandanna. 

As  soon  as  Simmons  could  get  out  of  the  room,  Dr. 
Lavendar  settled  himself  to  the  business  which  had 
brought  them  together.  He  said  to  his  senior  warden, 
briefly,  that  his  father  was  concerned  about  Sam's  at 
tentions  to  Mrs.  Richie;  "he  thinks  it  would  be  an  es 
pecially  good  time  to  have  the  boy  see  a  little  of  the 
world,  if  you  will  consent?  He  says  it's  'narrowing 
to  live  in  Old  Chester,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  slyly 
jocose; — but  Samuel  refused  to  smile,  and  the  old 
minister  went  on  with  determined  cheerfulness.  "I 
think,  myself,  that  it  would  be  good  for  Sam  to  travel. 
You  know 

4  Home-keeping  youths 
Have  ever  homely  wits.'  n 

"A  boy,"  said  the  senior  warden,  and  stopped;  his 
voice  cracked  badly  and  he  cleared  his  throat;  "a  boy 
• — Dr.  Lavendar; — is  better  at  home." 

160 


"SAMUEL  SLID  INTO  A  CHAIR  NEAR  THE  DOOR" 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

The  old  minister  gave  him  a  quick  look — his  senior 
warden  was  trembling!  The  cloak  of  careful  pom 
posity  with  which  for  so  many  years  this  poor  maimed 
soul  had  covered  its  scars,  was  dropping  away.  He 
was  clutching  at  it — clearing  his  throat,  swinging  his 
foot,  making  elaborate  show  of  ease;  but  the  cloak  was 
slipping  and  slipping,  and  there  was  the  man  of  fifty- 
six  cringing  with  the  mortification  of  youth!  It  was 
a  sight  from  which  to  turn  away  even  the  most  pitying 
eyes.  Dr.  Lavendar  turned  his  away;  when  he  spoke 
it  was  with  great  gentleness. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Sam, 
any  more  than  with  your  father;  but  still,  if  you  don't 
want  the  boy  to  go  away,  can't  we  convince  your 
father  that  he  is  in  no  real  danger  of  a  broken  heart  ? 
If  he  goes  too  far,  I  am  sure  we  can  trust  Mrs.  Richie 
to  snub  him  judiciously.  You  think  so,  don't  you, 
Samuel?" 

" Yes;— Dr.  Lavendar." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Wright?" 

Benjamin  Wright  took  off  his  hat  and  banged  it 
down  on  the  table.  Then  he  threw  away  another 
barely  lighted  cigar,  put  his  hand  into  the  blue  ginger- 
jar  for  some  orange-skin,  and  looked  closely  at  his  son; 
his  agitation  had  quite  disappeared.  "I  hear,"  he 
said  calmly. 

But  as  he  grew  calm,  Mr.  Samuel  Wright's  em 
barrassment  became  more  agonizing,  nor  was  it  les 
sened  by  the  very  old  man's  quite  obvious  interest  in 
it;  his  head,  in  its  brown  wig,  was  inclined  a  little  to 
one  side,  like  a  canary's,  and  his  black  eyes  helped 
out  the  likeness — except  that  there  was  a  carefully  re 
strained  gleam  of  humor  in  them.  But  he  said  noth 
ing.  To  cover  up  the  clamorous  silence  between 

161 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

father  and  son,  Dr.  Lavendar  talked  a  good  deal,  but 
rather  at  random.  He  was  confounded  by  the  situa 
tion.  Had  he  made  a  mistake,  after  all,  in  insisting 
upon  this  interview?  In  his  own  mind  he  was  asking 
for  wisdom,  but  aloud  he  spoke  of  the  weather.  His 
host  gave  no  conversational  assistance  except  an  oc 
casional  monosyllable,  and  his  senior  warden  was  ab 
solutely  dumb.  As  for  the  subject  which  brought 
them  together,  no  further  reference  was  made  to  it. 

"Take  some  more  whiskey,  Dominie,"  said  Mr. 
Wright.  His  eyes  were  glittering;  it  was  evident  that 
he  did  not  need  any  more  himself. 

Dr.  Lavendar  said,  "No,  thank  you,"  and  rose. 
Samuel  shot  up  as  though  a  spring  had  been  released. 

"Going?"  said  Benjamin  Wright;  "a  short  call,  con 
sidering  how  long  it  is  since  we've  met; — Lavendar." 

Samuel  cleared  his  throat.  "'Night,"  he  said 
huskily.  Again  there  was  no  hand-shaking;  but  as 
they  reached  the  front  door,  Benjamin  Wright  called 
to  Dr.  Lavendar,  who  stepped  back  into  the  library. 
Mr.  Wright  had  put  on  his  hat,  and  was  chewing 
orange-skin  violently.  "It  ain't  any  use  trying  to  ar 
range  anything  with — •  So  I'll  try  another  tack."  He 
came  close  to  Dr.Lavendar,  plucking  at  the  old  minister's 
black  sleeve,  his  eyes  snapping  and  his  jaws  working  fast ; 
he  spoke  in  a  delighted  whisper.  "But, Lavendar — " 

"Yes." 

"He  wouldn't  take  a  cigar." 

"Samuel  never  smokes,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said  shortly. 

"And  he  wouldn't  take  a  drink  of  whiskey." 

"He's  a  very  temperate  man." 

"Lavendar — " 

"Yes?" 

"Lavendar — it  was  efficacious!" 
162 


CHAPTER  XVI 

play  is  my  life — next  to  you,"  Sam  Wright's 
Sam  was  saying  to  his  father's  tenant.  He  had 
left  The  Top  before  the  two  visitors  arrived,  and  as 
Dr.  Lavendar  had  foreseen,  had  gone  straight  to  the 
Stuffed  Animal  House.  .  .  . 

Helena  was  in  a  low  chair,  with  David  nestling 
sleepily  in  her  arms;  Sam,  looking  up  at  her  like  a 
young  St.  John,  half  sat,  half  knelt,  on  the  step  at  her 
feet.  The  day  had  been  hot,  and  evening  had  brought 
no  coolness;  under  the  sentinel  locusts  on  either  side 
of  the  porch  steps  the  night  was  velvet  black;  but  out 
over  the  garden  there  were  stars.  A  faint  stirring  of 
the  air  tilted  the  open  bowls  of  the  evening-primroses, 
spilling  a  heavy  sweetness  into  the  shadows.  The 
house  behind  them  was  dark,  for  it  was  too  hot  for 
lamps.  It  was  very  still  and  peaceful  and  common 
place — a  woman,  a  dozing  child,  and  the  soft  night. 
Young  Sam,  so  sensitive  to  moods,  had  fallen  at  once 
into  the  peace  and  was  content  to  sit  silently  at 
Helena's  feet.  .  .  .  Then  David  broke  in  upon  the 
tranquillity  by  remarking,  with  a  sigh,  that  he  must 
go  to  bed. 

"I  heard  the  clock  strike,"  he  said  sadly. 

"I  think  you  are  a  very  good  little  boy,"  Helena 
declared  with  admiration. 

"Dr.    Lavendar    said    I    must,"    David    explained 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

crossly.  "You're  misbehavious  if  you  don't  do  what 
Dr.  Lavendar  says.  Mrs.  Richie,  is  heaven  up  in  the 
sky?" 

"Why,  I  suppose  so,"  she  said  hesitating. 

"  What  do  they  stand  on  ?"  David  inquired.  "  There 
isn't  any  floor,"  he  insisted  doggedly,  for  she  laughed 
under  her  breath. 

Helena  looked  over  at  Sam,  who  was  not  in  the 
least  amused.  Then  she  kissed  the  top  of  David's 
head.  "I  wish  I  could  make  his  hair  curl,"  she  said. 
"I  knew  a  little  boy  once — "  she  stopped  and  sighed. 

She  took  the  sleepy  child  up-stairs  herself.  Not  for 
many  guests  would  she  have  lost  the  half -hour  of  put^ 
ting  him  to  bed.  When  she  came  back  her  mind  was 
full  of  him:  "He  hates  to  go  to  bed  early,"  she  told 
Sam,  "but  he  always  walks  off  at  eight,  without  a 
word  from  me,  because  he  promised  Dr.  Lavendar  he 
would.  I  think  it  is  wonderful." 

Sam  was  not  interested. 

"And  he  is  so  funny!  He  says  such  unexpected 
things.  He  told  me  yesterday  that  Sarah  'slept  out 
loud1; — Sarah's  room  is  next  to  his." 

"What  did  he  mean?"  Sam  said,  with  the  curious 
literalness  of  the  poetic  temperament,  entirely  devoid 
of  humor.  But  he  did  not  wait  for  an  answer;  he 
locked  his  hands  about  his  knee,  and  leaning  his  head 
back,  looked  up  through  the  leaves  at  the  stars. 
"How  sweet  the  locust  blossoms  are!"  he  said.  One 
of  the  yellow-white  flakes  fell  and  touched  his  cheek. 

"They  are  falling  so  now,"  she  said,  "that  the  porch 
has  to  be  swept  twice  a  day." 

He  smiled,  and  brushing  his  palm  along  the  step, 
caught  a  handful  of  them;  "Every  night  you  sit  here 
all  alone;  I  wish — " 

164 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Oh,  I  like  to  be  alone,"  she  interrupted.  As  the 
balm  of  David's  presence  faded,  and  the  worship  in 
the  young  man's  eyes  burned  clearer,  that  old  joke  of 
Lloyd's  stabbed  her.  She  wished  he  would  go.  ''How 
does  the  drama  get  on?"  she  asked,  with  an  effort. 

Sam  frowned  and  said  something  of  his  father's  im 
patience  with  his  writing.  "But  I  am  only  happy 
whe  I  am  writing;  and  when  I  am  with  you.  The 
play  is  my  life,— next  to  you." 

"Please  don't!"  she  said;  and  then  held  her  breath 
to  listen.  "I  think  I  hear  David.  Excuse  me  a 
minute."  She  fled  into  the  house  and  up-stairs  to 
David's  room.  "Did  you  want  me,  precious?"  she 
said,  panting. 

Dc.vid  opened  dreaming  eyes  and  looked  at  her. 
He  had  called  out  in  his  sleep,  but  was  quiet  again, 
and  did  not  need  her  eager  arms,  her  lips  on  his  hair, 
her  voice  murmuring  in  his  ear.  But  she  could  not 
stop  cuddling  the  small  warm  body;  she  forgot  Sam 
and  his  play,  and  even  her  own  dull  ache  of  discon 
tent  , — an  ache  that  was  bringing  a  subtle  change  into 
her  face,  a  faint  line  on  her  forehead,  and  a  suggestion 
of  depth,  and  even  pain,  in  the  pleasant  shallows  of 
her  leaf  -  brown  eyes.  Perhaps  the  discontent  was 
mere  weariness  of  the  whole  situation;  if  so,  she  did 
not  recognize  it  for  what  it  was.  Her  fellow-prisoner, 
straining  furtively  against  the  bond  of  the  flesh  which 
was  all  that  held  him  to  her,  might  have  enlightened 
her,  but  he  took  her  love  so  for  granted,  that  he  never 
suspected  the  discontent.  However,  watching  David, 
Helena  was  herself  unconscious  of  it;  when  she  was 
sure  the  little  boy  was  sound  asleep  she  stole  the 
"forty  kisses,"  which  as  yet  he  had  not  granted;  fold 
ed  the  sheet  back  lest  he  might  be  too  hot ;  drew  a  thin 

165 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

blanket  over  his  feet,  and  then  stood  and  looked  at 
him.  Suddenly,  remembering  Sam  Wright,  she  turned 
away;  but  hesitated  at  the  door,  and  came  back  for 
one  more  look.  At  last,  with  a  sigh,  she  went  down 
stairs. 

"He  loves  your  rabbits,"  she  told  Sam;  "he  has 
named  them  Mr.  George  Rufus  Smith  and  Mrs.  Minnie 
Lily  Smith." 

"  It  is  all  finished,"  said  Sam. 

"What  is  finished?" 

"The  drama,"  the  young  man  explained. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "do  forgive  me!  My  mind  is  so 
full  of  David,  I  can't  think  of  anything  else." 

He  smiled  at  that.  "You  couldn't  do  anything  I 
wouldn't  forgive." 

"Couldn't  I?" 

He  looked  up  at  her,  wistfully.  "I  love  you,  you 
know." 

"Oh,  please,  please—" 

"I  love  you,"  he  said,  trembling. 

"Sam,"  she  said — and  in  her  distress  she  put  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder — "you  don't  really  care  for  me. 
I  am  so  much  older;  and — there  are  other  reasons.  Oh, 
why  did  I  come  here!"  she  burst  out.  "You  displease 
me  very  much  when  you  talk  this  way!"  She  pushed 
her  chair  back,  and  would  have  risen  but  for  his  de 
taining  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"Will  you  marry  me?" 

"No!  of  course  I  won't!" 

"Why?" 

"Because — "  she  stopped;  then,  breathlessly:  "I 
only  want  to  be  let  alone.  I  came  to  Old  Chester  to 
be  alone.  I  didn't  want  to  thrust  myself  on  you, — • 
any  of  you!" 

166 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"You  never  did,"  he  said  wonderingly.  "You? 
Why,  there  never  was  anybody  so  reserved,  so — shy, 
almost.  That's  one  reason  I  love  you,  I  guess,"  he 
said  boyishly. 

"You  mustn't  love  me." 

"Will  you  marry  me?"  he  repeated.  "Oh,  I  know; 
it  is  like  asking  an  angel  to  come  down  out  of  heaven — " 

"An  angel!" 

"Mrs.  Richie,  isn't  it  possible  for  you  to  care,  just  a 
little,  and  marry  me?" 

"No,  Sam;  indeed  it  isn't.  Please  don't  think  of  it 
any  more." 

"Is  it  because  you  love  him,  still?" 

"Love — him?'1  she  breathed. 

"He  is  dead,"  Sam  said;  "and  I  thought  from 
something  you  once  said,  that  you  didn't  really  love 
him.  But  if  you  do — " 

"My — husband,  you  mean ?  No!  I  don't.  I  never 
did.  That's  not  the  reason;  oh,  why  did  I  come  here  ?" 
she  said  in  a  distressed  whisper. 

At  that  he  lifted  his  head.  "Don't  be  unhappy. 
It  doesn't  matter  about  me."  His  eyes  glittered. 
"  'All  is  dross  that  is  not  Helena'!  I  shall  love  you  as 
long  as  I  live,  even  if  you  don't  marry  me.  Perhaps 
— perhaps  I  wouldn't  if  you  did!" 

He  did  not  notice  her  involuntary  start  of  astonish 
ment;  he  rose,  and  lifting  his  arms  to  the  sky,  stood 
motionless,  rapt,  as  if  in  wordless  appeal  to  heaven. 
Then  his  arms  dropped.  "No,"  he  said,  speaking 
with  curious  thoughtf ulness :  "no;  you  would  be 
human  if  you  could  marry  a  fool  like  me."  Helena 
made  a  protesting  gesture,  but  he  went  on,  quietly: 
"Oh,  yes;  I  am  a  fool.  I've  been  told  so  all  my  life; 
but  I  knew  it,  anyhow.  Nobody  need  have  told  me. 

167 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Of  course  you  couldn't  marry  me!  If  you  could,  you 
would  be  like  me.  And  I  would  not  want  that.  No; 
you  are  God  to  me.  Stay  divine." 

Helena  put  her  hands  over  her  ears. 

"But  please,  can't  you  love  me?  We  needn't  be 
married,  if  you'd  rather  not.  If  you'll  just  love  me  a 
little?" 

The  innocence  of  the  plea  for  love  without  marriage 
struck  her  with  a  dull  humor  that  faded  into  annoy 
ance  that  she  should  see  the  humor.  It  was  an  un 
comfortable  sensation;  and  she  hated  discomfort;  in 
her  desire  to  escape  from  it,  she  spoke  with  quick 
impatience.  "No,  Sam,  of  course  not, — not  the  way 
you  want  me  to.  Why,  you  are  just  a  boy,  you 
know  I"  she  added,  lightly. 

But  Sam  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her,  and 
pressed  his  head  against  her  skirts.  "Oh,  are  you 
sure,  Mrs.  Richie  ?  Why,  it  seems  to  me  you  might — 
just  a  little?  Can't  you?  You  see,  I'm  so  lonely," 
he  ended  pitifully.  His  innocent  solemn  eyes  were 
limpid  with  tears,  and  he  looked  at  her  with  terrified 
beseeching,  like  a  lost  child. 

The  tears  that  sprang  to  her  eyes  were  almost 
motherly;  for  an  impetuous  instant  she  bent  over  him, 
then  drew  back  sharply,  and  the  tears  dried  in  a  hot 
pang  of  shame.  "No,  Sam;  I  can't.  Oh,  I  am  so 
sorry!  Please  forgive  me — I  ought  not  to  have  let 
you — but  I  didnvt  know — yes;  I  did  know!  And  I 
ought  to  have  stopped  you.  It's  my  fault.  Oh,  how 
selfish  I  have  been!  But  it's  horrible  to  have  you  talk 
this  way!  Won't  you  please  not  say  anything  more?" 
She  was  incoherent  to  the  point  of  crying. 

Sam  looked  out  over  the  dark  garden  in  silence. 
"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "if  you  can't,  then  I  don't 

168 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

want  to  see  you.  It  would .  hurt  me  too  much  to  see 
you.  I'll  go  away.  I  will  go  on  loving  you,  but  I 
will  go  away,  so  that  I  needn't  see  you.  Yes;  I  will 
leave  Old  Chester — " 

"Oh,  I  wish  you  would,"  she  said. 

"You  don't  love  me,"  he  repeated,  in  a  sort  of  hope 
less  astonishment;  "why,  I  can't  seem  to  believe  it! 
I  thought  you  must — I  love  you  so.  But  no,  you 
don't.  Not  even  just  a  little.  Well — " 

And  without  another  word  he  left  her.  She  could 
not  hear  his  step  on  the  locust  flowers  on  the  porch. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"f  WISH  your  confounded  Old  Chester  people  would 
JL  mind  their  own  affairs!  This  prying  into  things 
that  are  none  of  their  business  is — " 

Lloyd  Pry  or  stopped;  read  over  what  he  had  writ 
ten,  and  ground  his  teeth.  No;  he  couldn't  send  her 
such  a  letter.  It  would  call  down  a  storm  of  reproach 
and  anger  and  love.  And,  after  all,  it  wasn't  her 
fault;  this  doctor  fellow  had  said  that  she  did  not 
know  of  his  call.  Still,  if  she  hadn't  been  friendly 
with  those  people,  the  man  wouldn't  have  thought  of 
" looking  him  up"!  Then  he  remembered  that  he 
had  been  the  one  to  be  friendly  with  the  "doctor  fel 
low";  and  that  made  him  angry  again.  But  his  next 
letter  was  more  reasonable,  and  so  more  deadly. 

"  You  will  see  that  if  I  had  not  happened  to  be  at 
home,  it  might  have  been  a  very  serious  matter.  I  must 
ask  you  to  consider  my  position,  and  discourage  your 
friends  in  paying  any  attention  to  me." 

This,  too,  he  tore  up,  with  a  smothered  word.  It 
wouldn't  do;  if  he  wounded  her  too  much,  she  was 
capable  of  taking  the  next  train — !  And  so  he  wrote, 
with  non-committal  brevity: 

"7  have  to  be  in  Mercer  Friday  night,  and  I  think  I 
can  get  down  to  Old  Chester  for  a  few  hours  between 
stages  on  Saturday.  I  hope  your  cook  has  recovered, 
and  we  can  have  some  dinner?  Tell  David  he  can  get 

170 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

his  sling  ready;  and  do,  for  Heaven's  sake,  fend  off 
visitors!"  Then  he  added  a  postscript:  "/  want  you 
all  to  myself."  He  smiled  as  he  wrote  that,  but  half 
shook  his  head.  He  did  not  (such  was  his  code)  enjoy 
being  agreeable  for  a  purpose.  "But  I  can't  help  it," 
he  thought,  frowning;  "she  is  so  very  difficult,  just 
now." 

He  was  right  about  the  postscript;  she  read  the 
letter  with  a  curl  of  her  lip.  '"A  few  hours,"1  she 
said;  then — '"I  want  you  all  to  myself."'  The  deli 
cate  color  flooded  into  her  face ;  she  crushed  the  letter 
to  her  lips,  her  eyes  running  over  with  laughing  tears. 

"Oh,  David,"  she  cried, — "let's  go  and  tell  Maggie 
— we  must  have  such  a  dinner!  He's  coming!" 

"Who?"  said  David. 

"Why,  Mr.  Pryor,  dear  little  boy.  I  want  you  to 
love  him.  Will  you  love  him  ?" 

"I'll  see,"  said  David;  "is  Mce  coming?" 

Instantly  her  gayety  flagged.     "No,  dear,  no!" 

"Well;  I  guess  she's  too  old  to  play  with;"  David 
consoled  himself;  "she's  nineteen." 

"I  must  speak  to  Maggie  about  the  dinner,"  Helena 
said  dully.  But  when  she  talked  to  the  woman,  in 
terest  came  back  again;  this  time  he  should  not  com 
plain  of  his  food!  Maggie  smiled  indulgently  at  her 
excitement. 

"My,  Mrs.  Richie,  I  don't  believe  no  wife  could 
take  as  good  care  of  Mr.  Pryor  —  and  you  just  his 
sister!" 

For  the  rest  of  that  glowing  afternoon,  Helena  was 
very  happy.  She  almost  forgot  that  uncomfortable 
scene  with  Sam  Wright.  She  talked  eagerly  of  Mr. 
Pryor  to  David,  quite  indifferent  to  the  child's  lack  of 
interest.  She  had  many  anxious  thoughts  about 

171 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

what  she  should  wear.  If  it  was  a  very  hot  day,  how 
would  her  white  dimity  do?  Or  the  thin  sprigged 
blue  and  white?  it  was  so  pretty — bunches  of  blue 
flowers  on  a  cross-barred  muslin,  and  made  with  three 
flounces  and  a  bertha.  She  was  wandering  about  the 
garden  just  before  tea,  trying  to  decide  this  point, 
when  David  came  to  say  that  a  gentleman  wanted  to 
see  her.  David  did  not  know  his  name; — he  was  the 
old  tangled  gentleman  who  lived  in  the  big  house  on 
the  hill. 

"Oh!"  Helena  said;  she  caught  her  lip  between  her 
teeth,  and  looked  at  David  with  frightened  eyes. 
The  child  was  instantly  alert. 

"I'll  run  and  tell  him  to  go  home,"  he  said  pro- 
tectingly. 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "I've  got  to  see  him — 
oh,  David!" 

The  little  boy  took  hold  of  her  skirt,  reassuringly; 
"I'll  not  let  him  hurt  you,"  he  said.  She  hardly 
noticed  that  he  kept  close  beside  her  all  the  way  to 
the  house. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Wright  was  sitting  on  the  lowest  step 
of  the  front  porch.  His  trembling  head  was  sunk  for 
ward  on  his  breast ;  he  did  not  lift  it  at  her  step,  but 
peered  up  from  under  the  brim  of  his  dusty  beaver 
hat;  then  seeing  who  it  was,  he  rose,  pushing  himself 
up  by  gripping  at  the  step  behind  him  and  clutching 
his  cane  first  in  one  hand,  then  in  the  other.  His  face, 
like  old  ivory  chiselled  into  superb  lines  of  melancholy 
power,  was  pallid  with  fatigue.  On  his  feet,  with  ex 
aggerated  politeness,  he  took  off  his  hat  with  a  sweep 
ing  bow. 

"Madam;  your  very  obedient!" 

"  Good  afternoon,"  she  said  breathlessly. 
172 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Benjamin  Wright,  tottering  a  little,  changed  his 
cane  from  his  left  to  his  right  hand,  and  chewed 
orange-skin  fiercely.  "I  have  called,  madam — " 

But  she  interrupted  him.  "  Won't  you  come  in 
and  sit  down,  sir?  And  pray  allow  me  to  get  you  a 
glass  of  wine." 

"Come  in?  No,  madam,  no.  We  are  simple  rus 
tics  here  in  Old  Chester;  we  must  not  presume  to 
intrude  upon  a  lady  of  such  fashion  as  you.  I  fear 
that  some  of  us  have  already  presumed  too  much" — 
he  paused  for  breath,  but  lifted  one  veined  old  hand 
to  check  her  protest — "too  much,  I  say!  Far  too 
much!  I  come,  madam,  to  apologize;  and  to  tell 
you — "  Again  he  stopped,  panting;  "to  tell  you  that 
I  insist  that  you  forbid  further  intrusion — at  least  on 
the  part  of  my  grandson." 

"But,"  she  said,  the  color  hot  in  her  face,  "he  does 
not  intrude.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I — " 

"Oh,  madam,  you  are  too  kind;  I  am  sure  you 
know  what  I  mean;  it  is  your  excessive  kindness  that 
permits  the  visits  of  a  foolish  boy — wearying,  I  am 
sure,  to  a  lady  so  accustomed  to  the  world.  I  will 
ask  you  to  forbid  those  visits.  Do  you  hear  me  ?"  he 
cried  shrilly,  pounding  the  gravel  with  his  cane.  "  Gad- 
a-mercy !  Do  you  hear  me  ?  You  will  forbid  his  visits ! ' ' 

"You  are  not  very  polite,  Mr.  Old  Gentleman," 
said  David  thoughtfully. 

"  David!"  Helena  protested. 

Benjamin  Wright,  looking  down  at  the  little  figure 
planted  in  front  of  her,  seemed  to  see  him  for  the  first 
time. 

"  Who  is  this  ?    Your  child  ?" 

"A  little  boy  who  is  visiting  me,'*  she  said.  " David, 
run  away/* 

173 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Benjamin  Wright  made  a  sneering  gesture.  "  No, 
no;  don't  dismiss  him  on  my  account.  But  that  a 
child  should  visit  you  is  rather  remarkable.  I  should 
think  his  parents — " 

"Hush!"  she  broke  in  violently.     "Go,  David,  go!" 

As  the  child  went  sulkily  back  to  the  garden,  she 
turned  upon  her  visitor.  "How  dare  you!  Dr.  Lav- 
endar  brought  him  to  me;  I  will  not  hear  another 
word!  And — and  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  any 
how.  You  are  a  cruel  old  man;  what  have  I  ever 
done  to  you?  I  have  never  asked  your  grandson  to 
come  here.  I  don't  want  him,  I  have  told  him  so. 
And  I  never  asked  you!" 

Benjamin  Wright  cackled.  "No;  I  have  not  been 
so  far  honored.  I  admit  that.  You  have  kept  us  all 
at  arm's  length,  —  except  my  boy."  Then,  bending 
his  fierce  brows  on  her,  he  added,  "But  what  does 
Lavendar  mean  by  sending  a  child — to  you  ?  What's 
he  thinking  of?  Except,  of  course,  he  never  had  any 
sense.  Old  Chester  is  indeed  a  foolish  place.  Well, 
madam,  you  will,  I  know,  protect  yourself,  by  forbid 
ding  my  grandson  to  further  inflict  his  company  upon 
you?  And  I  will  remove  my  own  company,  which  is 
doubtless  tiresome  to  you." 

He  bowed  again  with  contemptuous  ceremony,  and 
turned  away. 

The  color  had  dropped  out  of  Helena's  face;  she 
was  trembling  very  much.  With  a  confused  impulse 
she  called  to  him,  and  even  ran  after  him  for  a  few  steps 
down  the  path.  He  turned  and  waited  for  her.  She 
came  up  to  him,  her  breath  broken  with  haste  and  fear. 

"Mr.  Wright,  you  won't — "  Her  face  trembled 
with  dismay.  In  her  fright  she  put  her  hand  on  his 
arm  and  shook  it;  "you  won't—?" 

174 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

As  he  looked  into  her  stricken  eyes,  his  own  sud 
denly  softened.  "Why — "  he  said,  and  paused;  then 
struck  the  ground  with  his  stick  sharply.  "There, 
there;  I  understand.  You  think  I'll  tell?  Gad-a- 
mercy,  madam,  I  am  a  gentleman.  And  my  boy  Sam 
doesn't  interest  you?  Yes,  yes;  I  see  that  now. 
Why,  perhaps  I've  been  a  trine  harsh?  I  shall  say 
nothing  to  Lavendar,  or  anybody  else." 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  face,  and  he  heard  a 
broken  sound.  Instantly  he  reddened  to  his  ears. 

"Come!  Come!  You  haven't  thought  me  harsh, 
have  you?  Why,  you  poor — bird!  It  was  only  on 
my  boy's  account.  You  and  I  understand  each  other 
— I  am  a  man  of  the  world.  But  with  Sam,  it's 
different ;  now,  isn't  it  ?  You  see  that  ?  He's  in  love 
with  you,  the  young  fool!  A  great  nuisance  to  you, 
of  course.  And  I  thought  you  might — but  I  ask  your 
pardon!  I  see  that  you  wouldn't  think  of  such  a 
thing.  My  dear  young  lady,  I  make  you  my  apolo 
gies."  He  put  his  hand  out  and  patted  her  shoulder; 
"Poor  bird!"  he  said.  But  she  shivered  away  from 
his  touch,  and  after  a  hesitating  moment  he  went 
shuffling  down  the  path  by  himself. 

On  the  way  home  he  sniffled  audibly;  and  when  he 
reached  the  entrance  to  his  own  place  he  stopped, 
tucked  his  stick  under  his  arm,  and  blew  his  nose 
with  a  sonorous  sound.  As  he  stuffed  his  handker 
chief  back  into  his  pocket,  he  saw  his  grandson  loung 
ing  against  the  gate,  evidently  waiting  for  him.  .  .  .  The 
dilapidation  of  the  Wright  place  was  especially  obvi 
ous  here  at  the  entrance.  The  white  paint  on  the  two 
square  wooden  columns  of  the  gateway  had  peeled 
and  flaked,  and  the  columns  themselves  had  rotted  at 
the  base  into  broken  fangs,  and  hung  loosely  upon 

175 


THE    AWAKENING   OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

their  inner-posts;  one  of  them  sagged  side  wise  from 
the  weight  of  the  open  gate  which  had  long  ago  settled 
down  into  the  burdocks  and  wild  parsley  that  bordered 
the  weedy  driveway.  What  with  the  canaries,  and 
the  cooking,  and  the  slovenly  housework,  poor  old 
Simmons  had  no  time  for  such  matters  as  repairing  or 
weeding. 

Sam,  leaning  on  the  gate,  watched  his  grandfather's 
toiling  progress  up  the  hill.  His  face  was  dull,  and 
when  he  spoke  all  the  youth  seemed  to  have  dropped 
out  of  his  voice, 

"Grandfather,"  he  said,  when  Mr.  Wright  was 
within  speaking  distance,  "I  want  to  go  away  from 
Old  Chester.  Will  you  give  me  some  money,  sir?" 

Benjamin  Wright,  his  feet  wide  apart,  and  both 
hands  gripping  the  top  of  his  stick,  came  to  a  panting 
standstill  and  gaped  at  him.  He  did  not  quite  take 
the  boy's  words  in ;  then,  as  he  grasped  the  idea  that 
Sam  was  agreeing  to  the  suggestion  which  he  had  him 
self  made  more  than  a  month  before,  he  burst  out 
furiously.  "Why  the  devil  didn't  you  say  so,  yester 
day?  Why  did  you  let  me — you  young  jackass!" 

Sam  looked  at  him  in  faint  surprise.  Then  he  pro 
ceeded  to  explain  himself:  "Of  course,  father  won't 
give  me  any  money.  And  I  haven't  got  any  myself— 
except  about  twelve  dollars.  And  you  were  kind 
enough,  sir,  to  say  that  you  would  help  me  to  go  and 
see  if  I  could  get  a  publisher  for  the  drama;  I  would 
like  to  go  to-morrow,  if  you  please." 

"Go?"  said  Benjamin  Wright,  scowling  and  chew 
ing  orange -skin  rapidly;  "the  sooner  trie  better! 
I'm  glad  to  get  rid  of  you.  But,  confound  'you!  why 
didn't  you  tell  me  so  yesterday?  Then  ?I  needn't 
have —  Well,  how  much  money  do  you  want  ?  Have 

176 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

you  told  your — your  mother  that  you  are  going? 
Come  on  up  to  the  house,  and  I'll  give  you  a  check. 
But  why  didn't  you  make  up  your  mind  to  this  yes 
terday?"  Snarling  and  snapping,  and  then  falling 
into  silence,  he  began  to  trudge  up  the  driveway  to 
his  old  house. 

Sam  said  briefly  that  he  didn't  know  how  much 
money  he  wanted,  and  that  he  had  not  as  yet  told  his 
family  of  his  purpose.  "I'll  tell  mother  to-night,"  he 
said.  Then  he,  too,  was  silent,  his  young  step  falling 
in  with  his  grandfather's  shuffling  gait. 

When  Mr.  Wright  left  her,  Helena  stood  staring 
after  him,  sobbing  under  her  breath.  She  was  terri 
fied,  but  almost  instantly  she  began  to  be  angry.  .  .  . 

That  old  man,  creeping  away  along  the  road,  had 
told  her  that  he  would  not  betray  her;  but  his  knowl 
edge  was  a  menace,  and  his  surprise  that  she  should 
have  David,  an  insult!  Of  course,  her  way  of  living 
was  considered  "wrong"  by  people  who  cannot  under 
stand  such  situations — old-fashioned,  narrow-minded 
people.  But  the  idea  of  any  harm  coming  to  David 
by  it  was  ridiculous!  As  for  Sam  Wright,  all  that  sort 
of  thing  was  impossible,  because  it  was  repugnant. 
No  married  woman,  "respectable,"  as  such  women 
call  themselves,  could  have  found  the  boy's  love- 
making  more  repugnant  than  she  did.  And  certainly 
her  conduct  in  Old  Chester  was  absolutely  irreproach 
able:  she  went  to  church  fairly  often;  she  gave  liber 
ally  to  all  the  good  causes  of  the  village ;  she  was  kind 
to  her  servants,  and  courteous  to  these  stupid  Old 
Chester  people.  And  yet,  simply  because  she  had 
been  forced  by  Frederick's  cruelty  into  a  temporary 
unconventionally,  this  dingy,  grimy  old  man  de- 

177 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

spised  her!  "He  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were — I  don't 
know  what!" 

Anger  swept  the  color  up  into  her  face,  her  hands 
clenched,  and  she  ground  her  heel  down  into  the  path 
as  if  she  were  grinding  the  insolent  smile  from  his 
cruel  old  face.  Horrible  old  man!  Dirty,  tremulous; 
with  mumbling  jaws  chewing  constantly;  with  untidy 
white  hairs  pricking  out  from  under  his  brown  wig; 
with  shaking,  shrivelled  hands  and  blackened  nails; 
this  old  man  had  fixed  his  melancholy  eyes  upon  her 
with  an  amused  leer.  He  pretended,  if  you  please!  to 
think  that  she  was  unworthy  of  his  precious  grand 
son's  company  —  unworthy  of  David's  little  hand 
clasp.  She  would  leave  this  impudent  Old  Chester! 
She  would  tell  Lloyd  so,  as  soon  as  he  came.  She 
would  not  endure  the  insults  of  these  narrow-minded 
fools.  .  .  . 

"  Hideous!  Hideous  old  wretch!"  she  said  aloud  furi 
ously,  between  shut  teeth.  "  How  dared  he  look  at  me 
like  that,  as  if  I  were — •  Beast!  I  hate — I  hate — I  hate 
him."  Her  anger  was  so  uncontrollable  that  for  a  mo 
ment  she  could  not  breathe.  It  was  like  a  whirlwind, 
wrenching  and  tearing  her  from  the  soil  of  content 
ment  into  which  for  so  many  years  her  vanity  and 
selfishness  had  struck  their  roots. 

"But  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  wind." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHEN  Helena  went  back  to  the  house,  her  face 
was  red,  and  her  whole  body  tingling ;  every  now 
and  then  her  breath  came  in  a  gasp  of  rage.  At  that 
moment  she  believed  that  she  hated  everybody  in  the 
world — the  cruel,  foolish,  arrogant  world! — even  the 
thought  of  David  brought  no  softening.  And  indeed, 
when  that  first  fury  had  subsided,  she  still  did  not 
want  to  see  the  little  boy;  that  destroying  wind  of 
anger  had  beaten  her  complacency  to  the  dust,  and 
she  could  not  with  dignity  meet  the  child's  candid 
eyes.  It  was  not  until  the  next  day  that  she  could 
find  any  pleasure  in  him,  or  even  in  the  prospect  of 
Lloyd's  visit;  and  when  these  interests  began  to  re 
vive,  sudden  gusts  of  rage  would  tear  her,  and  she 
would  fall  into  abrupt  reveries,  declaring  to  herself 
that  she  would  tell  Lloyd  how  she  had  been  insulted! 
But  she  reminded  herself  that  she  must  choose  just 
the  right  moment  to  enlist  his  sympathy  for  the 
affront;  she  must  decide  with  just  what  caress  she 
would  tell  him  that  she  meant  to  leave  Old  Chester, 
and  come,  with  David,  to  live  in  Philadelphia.  (Oh, 
would  Frederick  ever  die?)  .  .  .  But,  little  by  little, 
she  put  the  miserable  matter  behind  her,  and  filled 
the  days  before  Lloyd's  arrival  with  plans  for  the  few 
golden  hours  that  they  were  to  be  together,  when  he 

179 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA  RICHIE 

was  to  have  her  "all  to  himself."     But,  alas,  the  plans 
were  all  disarranged  by  David. 

Now  Saturday,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  is 
always  a  day  of  joy — even  if  there  must  be  a  visitor. 
To  begin  with,  there  is  no  school,  so  you  have  plenty 
of  time  to  attend  to  many  important  affairs  connected 
with  playthings.  Then,  the  gravel  paths  must  be 
raked  and  the  garden  made  tidy  for  Sunday,  and  so 
there  is  brush  and  refuse  to  be  burned ;  and  that  means 
baking  potatoes  in  the  ashes,  and  (as  you  will  remem 
ber),  unless  you  stand,  coughing,  in  the  smoke  to 
watch  them,  the  potatoes  are  so  apt  to  burn.  Also, 
the  phaeton  is  washed  with  peculiar  care  to  make  it 
fine  for  church;  the  wheels  must  be  jacked  up,  one 
after  the  other,  and  spun  round  and  round;  then,  if 
you  go  about  it  the  right  way,  you  can  induce  George 
to  let  you  take  the  big,  gritty  sponge  out  of  the  black 
water  of  the  stable  bucket,  and  after  squeezing  it  hard 
in  your  two  hands,  you  may  wipe  down  the  spokes  of 
one  wheel.  Besides  these  things,  there  are  always  the 
rabbits.  Right  after  breakfast,  David  had  run  joy 
ously  out  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  but  while  he 
poked  lettuce  leaves  between  the  bars  of  their  hutch, 
the  thought  struck  him  that  this  was  the  moment  to 
demonstrate  that  interesting  fact  in  natural  history, 
so  well  known  to  those  of  your  friends  who  happen  to 
be  stablemen,  but  doubted  by  Dr.  Lavendar,  namely, 
that  a  hair  from  the  pony's  tail  will,  if  soaked  in  water, 
turn  into  a  snake.  David  shuddered  at  the  word,  but 
ran  to  the  stable  and  carefully  pulled  two  hairs  from 
the  pony's  silvery-gray  tail.  The  operation  was  borne 
with  most  obliging  patience,  but  when  he  stooped  to 
pick  up  another  beautiful  long  hair  from  the  straw — • 
for  when  you  are  making  snakes  you  might  as  well 

i  So 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

make  plenty,  alas!  the  pony  was  so  absent-minded  as 
to  step  back — and  down  came  the  iron-shod  hoof  on 
the  small,  eager  hand! 

David's  shriek  and  George's  outcry  brought  the  fem 
inine  household  running  and  exclaiming,  and  at  the 
sight  of  the  bruised  hand,  with  one  hanging,  helpless 
finger,  Helena  gathered  the  quiveriag  little  body  into 
her  arms,  and  forgot  everything  but  the  child's  pain. 
George  was  rushed  off  for  William  King,  and  Mrs. 
Richie  and  the  two  women  hung  over  the  boy  with 
tears  and  tender  words  and  entreaties  "not  to  cry"! 
David,  in  point  of  fact,  stopped  crying  long  before 
they  did;  but,  of  course,  he  cried  again,  poor  little 
monkey!  during  the  setting  of  the  tiny  bone,  though 
William  King  was  as  gentle  and  determined  as  was 
necessary,  and  David,  sitting  in  Helena's  lap,  re 
sponded  to  the  demand  for  courage  in  quite  a  remark 
able  way.  Indeed,  the  doctor  noticed  that  Mrs. 
Richie  quivered  more  than  the  child  did.  It  was 
nearly  eleven  before  it  was  all  over,  and  William  went 
off,  smiling  at  Helena's  anxiety,  for  she  accompanied 
him  to  the  gate,  begging  for  directions  for  impossible 
emergencies.  When  he  had  driven  away,  she  flew 
back  to  the  house;  but  at  the  door  of  David's  room 
looked  at  her  watch,  and  exclaimed.  Lloyd  was  due 
in  half  an  hour!  What  should  she  do? 

"Dear-precious,"  she  said,  kneeling  down  beside 
the  little  boy,  "Sarah  shall  come  and  sit  with  you 
while  Mr.  Pryor  is  here;  you  won't  mind  if  I  am  not 
with  you?" 

David,  who  had  begun  to  whimper  again,  was  too 
interested  in  himself  to  mind  in  the  least.  Even  when 
she  said,  distractedly,  "Oh,  there's  the  stage!"  his  un- 
happiness  was  not  perceptibly  increased.  Helena, 

181 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

calling  Sarah  to  come  and  sit  with  the  invalid,  ran 
down-stairs  to  meet  her  guest.  There  had  been  no 
time  to  make  herself  charming;  her  face  was  marked 
by  tears,  and  her  dress  tumbled  by  David's  little 
wincing  body.  Before  she  could  reach  the  gate, 
Lloyd  Pryor  had  opened  it,  and,  un welcomed,  was 
coming  up  the  path.  His  surprised  glance  brought 
her  tumultuous  and  apologetic  explanation. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry!"  he  said  kindly;  "I  must  console 
him  with  a  new  dollar;  don't  you  think  a  dollar  will 
be  healing?" 

She  laughed  and  possessed  herself  of  his  hand. 

"You  run  a  sort  of  hospital,  Nelly,  don't  you?  I 
must  be  a  Jonah;  it  was  your  cook  the  last  time. 
How  is  she?  I  trust  we  are  to  have  enough  food  to 
sustain  life?" 

"I  meant  to  have  such  a  fine  dinner,"  she  said, 
"but  we've  all  been  so  distracted  about  David,  I'm 
afraid  things  won't  be  as  extraordinary  as  I  planned. 
However,  it  will  '  sustain  life ' ! — Though  you  could  go 
to  Dr.  King's  again,"  she  ended  gayly. 

The  instant  irritation  in  his  face  sobered  her.  She 
began,  carefully,  to  talk  of  this  or  that:  his  journey, 
the  Mercer  business,  his  health — anything  to  make 
him  smile  again.  Plainly,  it  was  not  the  moment  to 
speak  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Wright  and  her  purpose  of 
leaving  Old  Chester. 

"Now  I  must  run  up-stairs  just  one  minute,  and  see 
David,"  she  said  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence.  Her 
minute  lengthened  to  ten,  but  when  she  came  back, 
explaining  that  she  had  stopped  to  wash  David's  face 
— "it  was  all  stained  by  tears" — he  did^not  seem  im 
patient. 

"Your  own  would  be  improved  by  soap  and  water, 
182 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

my  dear,"  he  said  with  an  amused  look.  "No!  no— 
don't  go  now;  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  and  I  haven't 
much  time." 

She  knew  him  too  well  to  insist;  instead,  she  burst 
into  what  gayety  she  could  summon,  for  that  was  how 
he  liked  her.  But  back  in  her  mind  there  was  a  grow 
ing  tremor  of  apprehension :  —  there  was  something 
wrong;  she  could  not  tell  what  it  was,  but  she  felt  it. 
She  said  to  herself  that  she  would  not  speak  of  Mr. 
Benjamin  Wright  until  after  dinner. 

Little  by  little,  however,  her  uneasiness  subsided. 
It  became  evident  that  the  excitement  of  the  morning 
had  not  been  too  much  for  Maggie;  things  were  very 
good,  and  Lloyd  Pryor  was  very  appreciative,  and 
Helena's  charm  more  than  once  touched  him  to  a 
caressing  glance  and  a  soft  word.  But  as  they  got  up 
from  the  table  he  glanced  at  his  watch,  and  she 
winced;  then  smiled,  quickly.  She  brought  him  his 
cigar  and  struck  a  light;  and  he,  looking  at  her  with 
handsome,  lazy  eyes,  caught  the  hand  which  held  the 
naming  match,  and  lit  his  cigar  in  slow  puffs. 

"  Now  I  must  go  and  give  a  look  at  David,"  she  said. 

''Look  here,  Nelly,"  he  protested,  "aren't  you 
rather  overdoing  this  adopted-mother  business  ?" 

She  found  the  child  rather  flushed  and  in  an  uneasy 
doze.  Instantly  she  was  anxious.  "Don't  leave  him, 
Sarah,"  she  said.  "I'll  have  Maggie  bring  your  dinner 
up  to  you.  Oh,  I  wish  I  didn't  have  to  go  down 
stairs!" 

"I'm  afraid  he  is  worse,"  she  told  Lloyd  Pryor  with 
a  worried  frown. 

"Well,  don't  look  as  if  it  were  an  affair  of  nations," 
he  said  carelessly,  and  drew  her  down  on  the  sofa  be 
side  him.  He  was  so  gracious  to  her,  that  she  forgot 

183 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

David;  but  she  quivered  for  fear  the  graciousness 
should  cease.  She  was  like  a  thirsty  creature,  drink 
ing  with  eager  haste,  lest  some  terror  should  drive  her 
back  into  the  desert.  But  Lloyd  Pryor  continued  to 
be  gracious;  he  talked  gayly  of  this  or  that;  he  told 
her  one  or  two  stories  that  had  been  told  him  in  a 
directors'  meeting  or  on  a  journey,  and  he  roared  with 
appreciation  of  their  peculiar  humor.  She  flushed; 
but  she  made  herself  laugh.  Then  she  began  ten 
tatively  to  say  something  of  Old  Chester;  and — and 
what  did  he  think?  "That  old  man,  who  lives  up  on 
the  hill,  called,  and—" 

But  he  interrupted  her.  "You  are  very  beguiling, 
Nelly,  but  I  am  afraid  I  must  be  thinking  of  the  stage 
- — it  is  after  three.  Before  I  go  I  just  want  to  say — " 
then  he  broke  off.  "Come  in!  Well?  What  is  it?" 
he  demanded  impatiently. 

"Please,  ma'am,"  said  Sarah,  standing  in  the  door 
way,  her  face  puckered  almost  to  tears,  "  David's  woke 
up,  and  he's  crying,  and  I  can't  do  nothing  with  him. 
He  wants  you,  ma'am." 

"Oh,  poor  darling!  Tell  him  I'll  come  right  up," 
Mrs.  Richie  said,  rising  in  quick  distress. 

"Nonsense!"  said  Lloyd  Pryor,  sharply.  "Sarah, 
tell  the  boy  to  behave  himself.  Mrs.  Richie  can't 
come  now." 

Sarah  hurried  up-stairs,  but  Helena  stood  in  painful 
indecision.  "Oh,  Lloyd,  I  must  go!  I'll  just  sit  with 
him  a  minute!" 

"You'll  just  sit  with  me  a  minute,"  he  said  calmly. 
"Be  sensible,  Helena.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about 
something." 

But  she  did  not  hear  him;  she  was  listening  for 
David's  voice.  A  little  whimpering  cry  reached  her, 

184 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

and  the  tears  sprung  to  her  eyes.  "Lloyd!  I  must! 
He  is  crying." 

"Let  him  cry." 

"He's  takin'  on  so,  please  come  up,  ma'am,"  came 
Sarah's  entreating  voice  from  over  the  banisters  in 
the  upper  hall. 

"Oh,  Lloyd,  I  must!"  She  turned;  but  he,  spring 
ing  up,  caught  her  wrist  and  pulled  her  to  him. 

"Don't  be  a  fool." 

"Let  me  gc!  Oh,  how  cruel  you  are!"  She  tried 
to  wrench  her  wrist  from  his  grasp.  "I  hate  you!" 

"Hate  me,  do  you?"  He  laughed,  and  catching 
her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  again  and  again.  Then  he 
put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  stepped  back,  leaving 
her  free.  "Will  you  go ?" 

She  stood,  vibrating  between  surprised  affection 
and  anguished  longing  for  the  child.  "Lloyd!"  she 
said  faintly;  she  put  her  hands  over  her  face,  and  came 
towards  him  slowly,  shivering  a  little,  and  murmuring 
"Lloyd!"  Then,  with  a  sudden  gasp,  she  turned  and 
fled  up- stairs.  "David — I  am  coming — " 

Lloyd  Pryor  stood  dumfounded;  in  his  astonish 
ment  he  almost  laughed.  But  at  that  instant  he 
heard  the  crunch  of  wheels  drawing  up  at  the  gate. 
"The  stage!"  he  said  to  himself,  and  called  out, 
angrily,  "Helena!" 

But  it  was  not  the  stage;  it  was  William  King's 
shabby  old  buggy  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  big 
locust  by  the  roadside;  and  there  was  the  doctor  him 
self  coming  up  the  path. 

Lloyd  Pryor  swore  under  his  breath. 

The  front  door  was  open  to  the  hot  June  afternoon, 
and  unannounced  the  doctor  walked  into  the  hall. 
As  he  took  ofE  his  hat,  he  glanced  into  the  parlor,  and 

185 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

for  a  second  of  consternation  stood  staring  with  angry 
eyes.  Then  he  nodded  stiffly.  "I  will  be  obliged  if 
you  will  let  Mrs.  Richie  know  I  am  here." 

44  She  is  with  that  boy,"  said  Lloyd  Pryor.  He 
made  no  motion  of  civility;  he  stood  where  Helena 
had  left  him,  his  hands  still  in  his  pockets.  "Will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  her  to  come  down  here  to 
me?  The  stage  is  due,  and  I  must  see  her  before  I 
go." 

William  King,  red  and  stolid,  nodded  again,  and 
went  up-stairs  without  another  look  into  the  parlor. 

While  he  waited  Lloyd  Pryor's  anger  slowly  rose. 
The  presence  of  the  doctor  froze  the  tenderness  that, 
for  an  idle  moment,  her  face  and  voice  and  touch  had 
awakened.  The  annoyance,  the  embarrassment,  the 
danger  of  that  call,  returned  in  a  gust  of  remembrance. 
When  she  came  down  -stairs,  full  of  eager  excuses,  the 
touch  of  his  rage  seared  her  like  a  flame. 

"If  you  will  kindly  take  five  minutes  from  that 
squalling  brat  —  " 

"Lloyd,  he  was  in  pain.  I  had  to  go  to  him.  The 
instant  the  doctor  came,  I  left  him.  I  —  " 

"Listen  to  me,  please.  I  have  only  a  minute. 
Helena,  this  friend  of  yours,  this  Dr.  King,  saw  fit  to 
pry  into  my  affairs.  He  came  to  Philadelphia  to  look 
me  up  —  " 


"He  came  to  my  house"  —  he  looked  at  her  keenly 
through  his  curling  eyelashes  —  "to  my  house!  Do 
you  understand  what  that  means?" 

In  her  dismay  she  sat  down  with  a  sort  of  gasp  ;  and 
looking  up  at  him,  stammered,  "But  why?  Why?" 

"Why?  Because  he  is  a  prying  suspicious  jackass 
of  a  country  doctor!  He  came  at  exactly  six  o'clock; 

186 


WHEN  HE  HAD  GONE,  SHE  WENT  INTO  THE  PARLOR  AXD  SHUT 
THE  DOOR" 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

it  was  perfectly  evident  that  he  meant  to  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  his  company  at  dinner." 

At  that  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  impetuous  hands 
upon  his  arm.  "Then  he  was  not — suspicious!  Don't 
you  see?  He  was  only  friendly!"  She  trembled  with 
the  reaction  of  that  instant  of  dismay.  "He  was  not 
suspicious,  or  he  wouldn't  have  been — been  willing — " 
Her  voice  trailed  into  shamed  silence. 

Lloyd  Pryor  pushed  her  hand  away,  impatiently. 
"I'm  not  anxious  for  his  friendship  or  even  his  ac 
quaintance.  You  will  please  consider  what  would 
have  happened  if  I  had  not  come  home  just  as  he  ar 
rived!"  He  paused,  his  voice  hardening:  "My  daugh 
ter  saw  him." 

Helena  stepped  back,  wincing  and  silent. 

"You  will  be  so  good  as  to  consider  the  result  of 
such  tomfoolery — to  me." 

"And  what  about  me?"  she  said.  "Your  'daugh 
ter'  —  I  suppose  you  mean  Alice  —  is  not  the  only 
person  in  the  world!" 

But  Lloyd  Pryor,  having  dealt  his  blow,  was  gra 
cious  again.  "My  dear,  you  needn't  begin  recrimina 
tions.  Of  course,  I  speak  orl  your  account  as  much 
as  on  my  own.  It  would  have  been — well,  awkward, 
all  round.  You  must  see  that  it  does  not  occur  again. 
You  will  not  get  on  terms  with  these  people  that  will 
encourage  them  to  look  me  up.  You  understand?" 

She  looked  at  him,  terror-stricken.  In  all  their 
squabbles  and  differences — and  there  had  been  many 
in  the  last  few  years— he  had  never  spoken  in  this  ex 
traordinary  tone.  It  was  not  anger,  it  was  not 
the  courteous  brutality  with  which  she  was  more  or 
less  familiar;  it  was  superiority.  The  color  swept  into 
her  face;  even  her  throat  reddened.  She  said  stam- 
13  187 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

mering,  "  I  don't  know  why  you  speak — in — in  this 
tone—" 

"I  am  not  going  to  speak  any  more  in  any  tone," 
he  said  lightly;  "there's  the  stage!  Good-by,  my 
dear.  I  trust  your  boy  may  recover  rapidly.  Tell 
him  I  was  prepared  for  his  sling  and  the  '  smooth  stone 
out  of  the  brook'!  Sorry  I  couldn't  have  seen  more 
of  you."  As  he  spoke  he  went  into  the  hall;  she  fol 
lowed  him  without  a  word.  He  picked  up  his  hat, 
and  then,  turning,  tipped  her  chin  back  and  kissed 
her.  She  made  no  response. 

When  he  had  gone,  she  went  into  the  parlor  and 
shut  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

DAVID  was  quite  a  personage  in  Old  Chester  for 
a  few  days.  Mrs.  Richie  was  his  slave,  and  hard 
ly  left  him  day  or  night ;  Dr.  King  came  to  see  him  five 
times  in  one  week;  Mrs.  Barkley  sent  him  some  wine 
jelly  in  a  sheaf -of-wheat  mould;  Dr.  Lavendar  climbed 
the  hill  on  two  afternoons,  to  play  dominoes  with 
him,  though,  as  it  happened,  Mrs.  Richie  was  not  present 
either  day  to  watch  the  game.  The  first  time  she  had 
just  gone  to  lie  down,  Sarah  said;  the  second  time 
she  had  that  moment  started  out  to  walk — "Why, 
my  goodness!"  said  Sarah,  "she  must  'a'  just  gone! 
She  was  here  not  a  minute  ago.  I  should  'a'  thought 
she'd  'a'  seen  you  tyin'  up  at  the  gate?" 

"Well,  evidently  she  didn't,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said, 
"or  she  would  have  waited.  Tell  her  I'm  sorry  to 
miss  her,  Sarah."  Then,  eagerly,  he  went  on  up-stairs 
to  David. 

William  King,  too,  was  scarcely  more  fortunate;  he 
only  found  her  at  home  once,  so  at  the  end  of  the  week 
he  was  unable  to  tell  her  that  David  was  improving. 
It  was,  of  course,  necessary  that  she  should  be  told 
this ;  so  that  was  why  he  and  Jinny  continued  to  come 
up  the  hill  for  another  week.  At  any  rate  that  was 
the  explanation  he  gave  his  Martha. 

"I  must  let  her  know  just  when  David  can  go  back 
to  school,"  he  said.  And  Martha,  with  a  tightening 

189 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

lip  remarked  that  she  should  have  supposed  a  woman 
of  Mrs.  Richie's  years  could  use  her  own  judgment  in 
such  a  matter. 

William's  explanation  to  Dr.  Lavendar  was  some 
what  fuller:  "I  make  a  point  of  calling,  on  the  plea  of 
seeing  David,  but  it's  really  to  see  her.  She's  so  high 
strung,  that  this  little  accident  of  his  has  completely 
upset  her.  I  notice  that  she  sort  of  keeps  out  of  the 
way  of  people.  I'm  pretty  sure  that  yesterday  she 
saw  me  coming  and  slipped  out  into  the  garden  to 
avoid  me — think  of  that !  Nervousness ;  pure  nervous 
ness.  But  I  have  a  plan  to  brighten  her  up  a  little — 
a  surprise-party.  What  do  you  say?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  looked  doubtful.  "William,"  he  said, 
"isn't  life  surprising  enough?  Now,  here's  Sam 
Wright's  Sam's  performance." 

Dr.  Lavendar  looked  care-worn,  and  with  reason. 
Sam  Wright's  Sam  had  indeed  provided  a  surprise  for 
Old  Chester.  He  had  quietly  announced  that  he  was 
going  to  leave  town. 

"Going  away!"  repeated  the  senior  warden.  "What 
are  you  talking  about?" 

Sam  said  briefly  that  he  wanted  to  try  to  get  a 
drama  he  had  written,  published. 

"You  are  out  of  your  senses4!"  his  father  said;  "I 
forbid  it,  sir.  Do  you  hear  me?" 

Sam  looked  out  of  the  window.  "  I  shall  go,  I  think, 
to-morrow,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 

Samuel  Wright  stared   at   his  wife  in  dumfounded 
silence.     When  he  got  his  breath,  he  said  in  awful  tones, 
"Eliza,  he  defies  me!     A  child  of  mine,  and  lost  to  all 
sense  of  duty!     I  cannot  understand  it; — unless  sucl 
things  have  happened  in  your  family?"  he  ended  witl 
sudden  suspicion. 

190 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Never!"  protested  the  poor  mother;  "but  Samuel, 
my  dear — Sammy,  my  darling — " 

The  senior  warden  raised  a  majestic  hand.  "  Silence, 
if  you  please,  Eliza."  Then  he  thrust  his  right  hand 
into  his  bosom,  rested  his  left  fist  on  the  marble-topped 
centre-table,  and  advanced  one  foot.  Standing  thus, 
he  began  to  tell  his  son  what  he  thought  of  him,  and 
as  he  proceeded  his  anger  mounted,  he  forgot  his  periods 
and  his  attitudes,  and  his  voice  grew  shrill  and  mean. 
But,  alas,  he  could  not  tell  the  boy  all  that  he  thought; 
he  could  not  tell  him  of  his  high  ambitions  for  him, 
of  his  pitiful  desire  for  his  love,  of  his  anguished  fear 
lest  he  might  be  unhappy,  or  foolish,  or  bad.  These 
thoughts  the  senior  warden  had  never  known  how  to 
speak.  Instead,  he  detailed  his  grievances  and  his 
disappointments;  he  told  Sam  with  ruthless  candor 
what  the  world  called  his  conduct:  dishonest,  idiotic, 
ungrateful.  He  had  a  terrifying  string  of  adjectives, 
and  through  them  all  the  boy  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow.  Once,  at  a  particularly  impassioned  period,  he 
glanced  at  his  father  with  interest ;  that  phrase  would 
be  fine  in  a  play,  he  reflected.  Then  he  looked  out  of 
the  window  again. 

"And  now,"  Mr.  Wright  ended  sonorously,  "what 
reply  have  you  to  make,  sir?" 

Sam  looked  confused.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  father? 
I  did  not  hear  what  you  were  saying." 

Samuel  Wright  stared  at  him,  speechless. 

As  for  the  boy,  he  said  calmly,  "Good  night,  fa 
ther,"  and  went  up -stairs  to  his  own  room  where 
he  began  his  packing.  The  next  morning  he  had 
gone. 

"Where?"  asked  Dr.  Lavendar,  when  the  angry 
father  brought  him  the  news. 

191 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  senior  warden,  "and  I 
do  not — " 

"Yes,  you  do,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "but  that's  not 
the  point.  The  point  is  that  it  doesn't  really  matter, 
except  for  our  comfort,  whether  we  know  or  not.  Sam 
is  a  man,  and  our  protection  is  an  impertinence.  He's 
taking  a  dive  on  his  own  account.  And  as  I  look  at 
it,  he  has  a  right  to.  But  he'll  come  up  for  breath, 
and  then  we'll  get  some  information.  And  he'll  get 
some  sense." 

But  of  course  the  Wright  family  \fas  in  a  moslr  dis 
tressed  state.  The  mother  was  overwhelmed  with 
anxious  grief ;  the  *f  ather  was  consumed  with  mortifi 
cation  and  blazing  with  anger. 

"  He  didn't  take  his  second-weight  flannels,"  moaned 
Mrs.  Wright;  "he  will  catch  cold.  Oh,  where  is  he? 
And  nobody  knows  how  to  cook  his  hominy  for  him 
but  our  Betsy.  Oh,  my  boy!" 

"  Good  riddance,"  said  Sam  senior  between  his  teeth; 
"ungrateful  puppy!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  had  his  hands  full.  To  reassure  the 
mother,  and  tell  her  that  the  weather  was  so  warm 
that  Sam  couldn't  use  the  second-weight  flannels  if 
he  had  them,  and  that  when  he  came  back  Betsy's 
hominy  would  seem  better  than  ever — "Old  Chester 
food  will  taste  mighty  good,  after  a  few  husks,"  said 
Dr.  Lavendar,  cheerfully  —  to  tell  Sam  senior  that  a 
grateful  puppy  would  be  an  abnormal  monster,  and 
to  refrain  from  telling  him  that  whatever  a  father 
sows  he  is  pretty  sure  to  reap — took  time  and  strength. 
So  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  enter  very  heartily  into  Will 
iam  King's  plans  for  a  surprise -party.  However,  he 
did  promise  to  come,  if  the  doctor  succeeded  in  getting 
Old  Chester  together. 

192 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Meantime  he  and  Danny  and  Goliath  went  up  to 
The  Top  to  tell  Benjamin  Wright  about  Sam's  Sam. 
The  grandfather  displayed  no  surprise. 

"I  knew  he  was  going  to  clear  out,"  he  said;  he 
was  poking  about  among  his  canaries  when  Dr.  Lav- 
endar  came  in,  and  he  stopped  and  sat  down,  panting. 
"These  fowls  wear  me  out,"  he  complained.  "Whis 
key?  No?  Dear  me!  Your  senior  warden's  got 
you  to  sign  the  pledge,  I  suppose?  Well,  I  will;  to 
drink  the  cub's  health.  He'll  amount  to  something 
yet,  if  he  doesn't  eat  his  fatted  calf  too  soon.  Fatted 
calf  is  very  bad  for  the  digestion." 

"Wright,  I  don't  suppose  you  need  to  be  told  that 
you  behaved  abominably  Sunday  night?  Do  you 
know  where  Sam  is?" 

"I  don't;  and  I  don't  want  to.  Behaved  abomina 
bly?  He  wouldn't  shake  hands  with  me!  Sam  told 
me  he  was  going,  and  I  gave  him  some  money — well! 
why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that  ?  Gad-a-mercy,  ain't 
he  my  grandson?  Besides,  since  our  love-feast,  ain't 
it  my  duty  to  help  his  father  along?  I've  had  a 
change  of  heart,"  he  said,  grinning;  "where's  your  joy 
over  the  one  sinner  that  repenteth  ?  I'm  helping  young 
Sam,  so  that  old  Sam  may  get  some  sense.  Lavendar, 
the  man  who  has  not  learned  what  a  damned  fool  he 
is,  hasn't  learned  anything.  And  if  I  mistake  not,  the 
boy  will  teach  my  very  respectable  son,  who  won't 
smoke  and  won't  drink,  that  interesting  fact.  As  for 
the  boy,  he  will  come  back  a  man,  sir.  A  man!  Any 
way,  I've  done  my  part.  I  offered  him  money  and 
advice — like  the  two  women  grinding  at  the  mill,  one 
was  taken  and  the  other  was  left.  Yes;  I've  done  my 
part.  I've  evened  things  up.  I  gave  him  his  first 
tobie,  and  his  first  drink,  and  now  I've  given  him  a 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

chance  to  see  the  world — which  your  senior  warden 
once  said  was  a  necessary  experience  for  a  young 
man.  I've  evened  things  up!"  He  thrust  a  trembling 
hand  down  into  the  blue  ginger-jar  for  some  orange- 
skin.  "He  said  he'd  pay  the  money  back;  I  said, 
'Go  to  thunder!'  As  if  I  cared  about  the  money. 
I've  got  him  out  of  Old  Chester;  that's  all  I  care 
about." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I  hope  you  haven't 
got  him  merely  out  of  the  frying-pan." 

"So  you  think  there  is  no  fire  in  Old  Chester?  She's 
a  pretty  creetur,  Lavendar,  ain't  she?  Poor  thing!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  follow  the  connection  of  ideas 
in  the  older  man's  mind,  but  he  did  say  to  himself,  as 
he  and  Goliath  went  away,  that  it  was  queer  how 
possessed  Benjamin  Wright  was  that  Sam's  love- 
making  was  dangerous.  Then  he  sighed,  and  his  face 
fell  into  troubled  lines.  For  all  his  brave  words,  he 
wished  he  knew  where  the  boy  was;  and  though  he 
was  already  late  for  dinner,  he  drew  up  at  William 
King's  door  to  ask  the  doctor  if  he  had  any  new  ideas 
on  the  subject. 

But  Willy  was  not  at  home.  Martha  was  sitting 
under  the  grape-vine  trellis  at  the  back  door,  topping 
and  tailing  gooseberries.  From  the  kitchen  behind 
her  came  the  pleasant  smell  of  preserving.  She  had 
a  big  yellow  earthenware  bowl  in  her  lap,  and  excused 
herself  for  not  rising  when  Dr.  Lavendar  came  round 
the  corner  of  the  house  to  find  her. 

"/  am  a  housekeeper,  Dr.  Lavendar.  William 
thinks  it's  pretty  not  to  understand  housekeeping;  but 
I  expect  if  he  didn't  have  preserves  for  his  supper,  he 
wouldn't  think  it  was  so  pretty.  No ;  he  isn't  at  home, 
sir.  He's  gone  out — with  the  thermometer  at  ninety 

194 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

— to  see  about  that  party  he  is  getting  up  for  Mrs. 
Richie.  So  long  as  he  has  time  to  spare  from  his 
patients,  I  should  think  he  would  like  to  take  up  my 
spare  -  room  carpet  for  me.  But,  oh  dear,  no.  He 
has  to  see  about  parties!" 

"William  is  always  doing  friendly  things,"  said 
Dr.  Lavendar,  sitting  down  on  the  door-step  and  help 
ing  himself  to  a  gooseberry  from  Martha's  bowl. 
"You  are  going  to  make  some  fool  for  the  supper,  of 
course?"  He  took  off  his  hat,  and  wiped  his  fore 
head  with  his  big  red  handkerchief. 

"Oh,  of  course.  I'm  very  tired,  and  I  have  my 
housekeeping  to  attend  to;  but  I  can  make  goose 
berry  fool.  That's  what  I'm  for." 

"When  is  this  party?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "I 
declare,  I've  been  so  worried  about  Sam's  Sam,  I've 
forgotten." 

" It's  next  week;  Thursday.  Yes;  she  can  send  that 
boy  to  his  death,  maybe;  but  we  must  have  parties 
to  cheer  her  up." 

"Oh,  come  now,"  Dr.  Lavendar  remonstrated;  "I 
don't  believe  a  glimpse  of  the  world  will  kill  him. 
And  nobody  can  blame  Mrs.  Richie  for  his  foolishness. 
I  suppose  we  are  all  going?" 

"Everybody,"  Martha  King  said  scornfully;  "even 
Samuel  Wright.  He  told  his  wife  that  he  wouldn't 
have  any  nonsense  about  Sam,  and  she'd  got  to  go. 
I  think  it's  positively  cruel;  because  of  course  every 
body  knows  that  the  boy  was  in  love  with  this  house 
keeper  that  doesn't  know  how  to  make  soap!"  Martha 
shook  her  bowl  sharply,  and  the  toppling  green  pyra 
mid  crumbled.  Dr.  Lavendar  looked  at  her  over  his 
spectacles;  instantly  her  face  reddened,  and  she  tossed 
her  head.  "Of  course,  you  understand  that  I  haven't 

J95 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

the  slightest  personal  feeling  about  it.  That's  one 
thing  about  me,  Dr.  Lavendar,  I  may  not  be  perfect, 
but  nobody  despises  anything  like — that,  more  than 
I  do.  I  merely  regret  William's  judgment." 

"Regret  William's  judgment!  Why,  think  of  the 
judgment  he  displayed  in  choosing  a  wife,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar.  But  when  he  climbed  into  his  old  buggy 
he  had  the  grace  to  be  ashamed  of  himself;  he  ad 
mitted  as  much  to  Danny.  "For  she's  a  sensible 
woman,  Daniel,  and,  at  bottom,  kind."  Danny 
yawned,  and  Dr.  Lavendar  added,  "Poor  Willy!" 

Mrs.  Richie's  first  hint  of  Dr.  King's  proposed  fes 
tivity  came  a  week  later  from  David,  who  happened 
to  be  at  home  to  dinner,  and  who  saw  fit  to  mention 
that  Lydia  Wright  wasn't  to  be  allowed  to  come  up 
with  her  father  and  mother. 

"Come  up  where?"  Mrs.  Richie  said,  idly.  She  was 
leaning  forward,  her  elbows  on  the  table,  watching  the 
child  eat.  When  he  said,  "To  your  party  to-night," 
she  sat  up  in  astonished  dismay. 

"My  what?  David!  Tell  me  —  exactly.  Who  is 
coming  ?  Oh,  dear!"  she  ended,  tears  of  distress  stand 
ing  in  her  eyes. 

David  continued  to  eat  his  rice  pudding.  "Can  I 
sit  up  till  nine?" 

Mrs.  Richie  pushed  her  chair  back  from  the  table, 
and  caught  her  lower  lip  between  her  teeth.  What 
should  she  do?  But  even  as  she  asked  herself  the 
question,  Dr.  King  stood,  smiling,  in  the  French 
window  that  opened  on  to  the  lawn. 

"May  I  come  in?"  he  said. 

The  fact  was,  a  misgiving  had  risen  in  William's 
mind ;  perhaps  a  complete  surprise  would  not  be  pleas 
ant.  Perhaps  she  would  rather  have  an  idea  of  what 

196 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

was  going  to  happen.  Perhaps  she  might  want  to 
dress  up,  or  something.  And  so  he  dropped  in  to 
give  a  hint:  "Half  a  dozen  of  us  are  coming  in  to 
night  to  say  how-do-you-do,"  he  confessed.  ("Whew! 
she  doesn't  need  to  dress  up,"  he  commented  inward 
ly.)  The  red  rose  in  her  hair  and  her  white  cross- 
barred  muslin  with  elbow  sleeves  seemed  very  elegant 
to  William.  He  was  so  lost  in  admiration  of  her 
toilet,  that  her  start  of  angry  astonishment  escaped 
him. 

"  Dr.  King,"  said  David,  scraping  up  the  sugar  from 
his  saucer,  "is  God  good  because  He  likes  to  be,  or 
because  He  has  to  be?" 

"David,"  said  William  King,  "you  will  be  the 
death  of  me!" 

"Because,  if  He  likes  to  be,"  David  murmured,  "I 
don't  see  why  He  gets  praised;  and  if  He  has  to  be, 
why—" 

"Dr.  King,"  said  Helena  breathlessly,  "I'm  afraid — 
really,  I'm  not  prepared  for  company;  and — " 

"Oh,"  said  William,  cheerfully,  "don't  bother  about 
that.  Mrs.  King  is  going  to  bring  up  one  or  two  lit 
tle  things,  and  I  believe  Mrs,  Barkley  has  some  ideas 
on  the  subject.  Well,  I  must  be  going  along.  I  hope 
you  won't  be  sorry  to  see  us?  The  fact  is,  you  are 
too  lonely  up  here  with  only  David  to  keep  you  busy; 
though  I  must  say,  if  he  fires  off  questions  like  this 
one,  I  should  think  you  would  be  pretty  well  occu 
pied!" 

When  he  had  gone,  Helena  Richie  sat  looking  blank 
ly  at  David.  "What  on  earth  shall  I  do!"  she  said 
aloud. 

"Did  God  make  Sarah?"  David  demanded. 

"Yes,  dear,  yes!" 

*97 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

44  Did  He  make  me,  and  the  Oueen,  and  my  rab 
bits?" 

"  Why,  of  course.  Oh,  David,  you  do  ask  so  many 
questions!" 

"  Everything  has  to  be  made,"  he  ruminated. 

She  agreed,  absently.  David  put  his  spoon  down, 
deeply  interested. 

11  Who  made  God  ? — another  god,  higher  up  ?" 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  I'll  send  word  I  have  a 
headache!" 

David  sighed,  and  gave  up  theological  research. 
"Dr.  King  didn't  look  at  my  scar,  but  I  made  The- 
ophilus  Bell  pay  me  a  penny  to  show  it  to  him.  Mrs. 
Richie,  when  I  am  a  man,  I'm  never  going  to  wash 
behind  my  ears.  I  tell  Sarah  so  every  morning.  I'm 
going  to  see  my  rabbits,  now.  Good-by." 

He  slipped  down  from  his  chair  and  left  her  to  her 
perplexity  —  as  if  she  had  not  perplexity  enough 
without  this!  For  the  last  few  days  she  had  been 
worried  almost  to  death  about  Mr.  Benjamin  Wright. 
She  had  not  written  to  Lloyd  yet  of  that  terrible  inter 
view  in  the  garden  which  would  drive  her  from  Old 
Chester;  she  had  been  afraid  to.  She  felt  instinctively 
that  his  mood  was  not  hospitable  to  any  plan  that 
would  bring  her  to  live  in  the  East.  He  would  be  less 
hospitable  if  she  came  because  she  had  been  found  out 
in  Old  Chester.  But  her  timidity  about  writing  to 
him  was  a  curious  alarm  to  her;  it  was  a  confession 
of  something  she  would  not  admit  even  long  enough 
to  deny  it.  Nevertheless,  she  did  not  write;  "I  will 
to-morrow,"  she  assured  herself  each  day.  But  now, 
on  top  of  her  worry  of  indecision  and  unacknowledged 
fear,  came  this  new  dismay  —  a  party!  How  furious 
Lloyd  would  be  if  he  heard  of  it;  well,  he  must  not 

198 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

hear  of  it.  But  what  could  she  do?  If  she  put  it 
off  with  a  flimsy  excuse,  it  would  only  defer  the  de 
scent  upon  her.  How  helpless  she  was!  They  would 
come,  these  people,  they  would  be  friendly;  she  could 
not  escape  them! 

"Oh,  I  must  stop  this  kind  of  thing,"  she  said  to 
herself,  desperately 


CHAPTER  XX 

WITH  the  exception  of  Benjamin  Wright,  all  Old 
Chester  lent  itself  to  William  King's  project  with 
very  good  grace*  Mr.  Wright  said,  gruffly,  that  a  man 
with  one  foot  in  the  grave  couldn't  dance  a  jig,  so  he 
preferred  to  stay  at  home.  But  the  rest  of  Old  Chester 
said  that  although  she  was  so  quiet  and  kept  herself  to 
herself  so  much,  Mrs,  Richie  was  a  ladylike  person;  a 
little  shy,  perhaps — or  perhaps  only  properly  hesitant 
to  push  her  way  into  society ;  at  any  rate  it  was  but 
kind  to  show  her  some  attention, 

"Her  modesty  does  her  credit,"  Mrs,  Barkley  said, 
"but  it  will  be  gratifying  to  her  to  be  noticed.  I'll 
come,  William,  and  bring  a  cake.  And  Maria  Wei- 
wood  shall  tell  Ezra  to  take  three  bottles  of  Catawba." 

A  little  before  eight,  the  company  began  to  assem 
ble,  full  of  such  cordial  courtesy  that  Mrs.  Richie's 
shrinking  and  awkward  coldness  only  incited  them  to 
heartier  friendliness.  Dr.  King,  master  of  ceremonies, 
was  ably  assisted  by  his  Martha,  Mrs.  King  may 
have  been,  as  she  told  all  the  guests,  very  tired,  but 
she  could  be  depended  upon  to  be  efficient.  It  was 
she  who  had  engaged  Uncle  Davy  and  his  fiddle;  she 
who  put  the  cakes  and  wine  and  fruit  upon  the  dining- 
room  table,  already  somewhat  meagrely  arranged  by 
Helena's  reluctant  hands;  she  who  bustled  about  to 
find  card-tables,  and  induced  Tom  Dilworth  to  sing: 

200 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"  Thou — Tftou  r&ignest  in  this  bosom! — ** 

and  got   Mr.   Ezra  Barkley  to  ask  statistical  conun 
drums. 

"It's  well  there  is  somebody  to  attend  to  things," 
she  said  in  a  dry  aside  to  William.  "Mrs.  Richie  just 
walks  around  as  if  she  didn't  belong  here.  And  she 
lets  that  child  sit  up  until  this  hour!  I  can't  under 
stand  how  a  sensible  woman  can  deliberately  spoil  a 
child. — I'd  like  to  know  what  that  perfume  is  that 
she  uses,"  she  ended  frowning. 

It  was  after  supper,  while  the  husband  and  wife, 
still  oppressed  with  their  responsibilities,  were  stand 
ing  in  the  doorway  looking  in  upon  the  cheerful  party 
now  in  full  enjoyment  of  its  own  hospitality,  that 
Eddy  Minns  came  up  behind  them  and  touched  William 
King's  arm. 

"Dr.  King,"  he  said  breathlessly,  "a  telegram,  sir. 
For  Mrs.  Richie.  And  mother  said  it  was  bad  news!" 

"Oh,  William!"  said  Martha;  "bad  news!  Do  you 
know  what  it  is,  Eddy?" 

"Somebody  is  dead,"  the  boy  said,  important  and 
solemn. 

"Her  brother?"  William  King  asked  in  dismay. 

"Well,  not  the  brother  that  comes  here;  his  name 
is  Lloyd,  mother  said.  This  is  somebody  whose  name 
begins  with  'F.'  Perhaps  another  brother.  Mother 
showed  the  despatch  to  me;  it  just  said:  'F.  died  sud 
denly  yesterday  in  Paris.'  It  was  signed  *S.  R.'" 

"It  isn't  from  Pryor,  then,"  William  commented. 

"Oh,  William,"  Martha  whispered,  "what  shall  we 
do?  Must  you  give  it  to  her  now  ? — oh,  William!" 

Dr.  King  stood  staring  at  the  orange-colored  enve« 
lope  in  silence. 

201 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Shall  I  call  Dr.  Lavendar?"  Martha  asked  breath 
lessly. 

"Wait,"  her  husband  said;  "let  me  think:  it  may 
not  be  anybody  very  near  and  dear;  but  whether  it  is 
or  not,  there  is  nothing  she  can  do  about  it  to-night. 
The  telegraph-office  is  closed.  I  don't  see  why  her 
evening  need  be  spoiled.  No;  I  won't  give  it  to  her 
now.  When  the  people  go — " 

"Oh,  dear!  Dr.  Lavendar  says  we  must  end  up 
with  a  reel.  But  I'll  get  them  off  as  soon  as  I  can," 
Martha  declared,  in  her  capable  voice,  "and  then  I'll 
break  it  to  her." 

"I  will  tell  her,"  the  doctor  said.  He  put  the 
envelope  in  his  pocket  with  a  troubled  frown. 

"If  she  is  in  affliction,  a  woman  will  be  more  com 
fort  to  her  than  a  man,"  Martha  instructed  him. 
"Look  at  her  now,  poor  thing!  She  little  thinks — 
No  indeed;  I  must  stay  with  her.  I'm  very  tired,  and 
she's  not  very  friendly,  but  I  won't  shirk  my  duty  on 
that  account.  That's  one  thing  about  me:  I  may  not 
be  perfect,  but  I  don't  let  personal  feelings  interfere 
with  duty." 

"It  isn't  your  duty,"  William  said  impatiently; 
"you'd  better  arrange  about  the  reel."  And  with  that 
he  left  her.  But  he  was  so  uneasy  at  withholding  the 
telegram  that  he  forgot  to  choose  a  partner,  and  let 
Martha  push  him  into  place  opposite  Miss  Maggie  Jay, 
who  was  so  stout  that  when  the  two  large  bodies  went 
jigging  down  the  lane,  the  clasping  hands  arched  above 
their  heads  had  to  break  apart  to  give  them  room. 

"She  may  think  I  ought  to  have  told  her  at  once," 
William  was  saying  to  himself,  watching  Mrs.  Richie 
with  such  furtive  attention  that  he  forgot  to  turn  his 
partner,  until  Martha's  sharp  reminder  set  him  shuf- 

202 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

fling  his  feet,  and  grinning  in  a  sickly  way  at  panting 
Miss  Maggie.  .  .  .  "Who  is  'F.'?  Will  'F.'s  death  be 
a  great  grief?  Will  she  suffer?"  William  King's 
kind  heart  began  to  beat  thickly  in  his  throat.  If  she 
should  cry!  He  bowed,  with  stiffly  swinging  arms  to 
Miss  Maggie.  He  thought  of  Helena, — who  was  mov 
ing  through  the  dance  as  a  flower  sways  on  its  stalk, — 
as  one  thinks  of  a  child  in  pain;  with  the  impulse  to 
hold  out  his  arms.  In  his  absorption  he  stood  stock- 
still — but  happily  the  reel  was  over,  and  the  people 
were  beginning  to  say  good -by.  He  drew  a  long 
breath  of  relief  at  getting  rid  of  them,  and  as  he  stood 
waiting,  Martha  plucked  at  his  sleeve.  "Give  me  the 
despatch;  I'll  break  it  to  her." 

He  looked  at  her  with  absent  eyes.  "No;  I'll  see 
to  it.  Do  start,  Martha,  and  maybe  that  will  hurry 
them  off!" 

Mrs.  King  drew  back,  affronted.  "Oh,  very  well," 
she  said;  and  made  her  cold  adieux. 

But  Helena  Richie  was  oblivious  of  Mrs.  King's 
coldness;  her  anxiety  and  dismay  had  grown  into  an 
uncontrollable  nervousness,  and  when  at  last,  think 
ing  she  was  alone,  she  threw  up  her  arms  with  a  gest 
ure  of  relief,  the  sight  of  William  King,  coming  gravely 
towards  her,  made  her  break  into  an  angry  exclama 
tion.  But  before  she  knew  it,  he  had  taken  her  hand, 
and  was  holding  it  in  his  kind  clasp. 

"Mrs.  Richie,  I  am  afraid  I  must  give  you  bad 
news." 

"Bad— news— ?" 

"A  telegram  has  come,"  he  began,  taking  the  en 
velope  from  his  pocket;  but  she  interrupted  him, 
seizing  it  with  a  sort  of  gasp  and  tearing  it  open. 
A  moment  later  she  stood  quite  still,  looking  at  the 
14  203 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

despatch,  then  with  dilating  eyes  at  the  doctor,  and 
again  at  the  despatch.  She  pressed  her  fingers  hard 
against  her  lips,  and  he  saw  that  she  was  trembling. 

"You  must  sit  down,"  he  said  gently,  and  put  his 
big,  quiet  hand  on  her  shoulder.  She  sank  under  his 
firm  touch  into  a  chair. 

"It  is  not — bad  news." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  William  said.  "But  you  are 
a  little  pale,"  he  added  smiling. 

"It  was  a  shock." 

"I  am  glad  it  was  nothing  more." 

She  spread  out  the  telegram  and  read  it  again.  She 
did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  Dr.  King  looked  at  her 
uneasily.  There  was  certainly  no  grief  in  her  face, 
yet  her  color  did  not  come  back. 

"Some  one  is  dead,"  she  said.  "Not — a  friend." 
WiHiam  was  silent.  "But  it  startled  me." 

"Yes,"  the  doctor  said. 

"Oh,  Dr.  King!"  she  cried  violently;  and  put  her 
hands  over  her  face.  He  thought  with  relief  that  tears 
had  come.  "  He  was — an  enemy,"  she  said. 

"He  is  dead,  Mrs.  Richie;  forgive  him." 

She  did  not  answer.  It  was  all  William  King  could 
do  not  to  stroke  the  soft  hair  of  the  bent  head,  and  say 
"  Don't  cry,"  as  if  to  a  child.  But  when  she  lifted  her 
face,  her  eyes  were  quite  dry;  there  was  a  flashing 
look  in  them  that  broke  into  breathless,  wavering 
laughter. 

"I  beg  your  pardon;  it  is  just  the — the  shock,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  the  doctor  said;  "I  know."  He  could  not 
help  covering  with  his  big,  warm  palm,  the  shaking 
hands  that  were  pulling  and  twisting  the  telegram. 
"There,  there!  My  dear  Mrs.  Richie— where  is  that 

204 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

bromide  I  gave  you  for  David?  I  want  you  to  take 
some." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  necessary;  truly  it  isn't.  I  am  not  un 
happy.  I  am  just — " 

"You  are  startled;  and  you  must  have  a  good  night's 
sleep.  Is  the  bromide  in  David's  room?  I'll  get  it." 

When  he  came  back  with  the  medicine,  she  took  it 
hurriedly  —  anything  to  get  rid  of  him !  "Is  there 
anything  I  can  do?"  he  said.  "Do  you  want  to  send 
any  reply?  I  can  take  it  down  to-night  and  send 
it  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  "what  am  I  thinking  of. 
Of  course,  a  message — I  must  send  a  message!  Will 
you  take  it?  Oh,  I  am  afraid  I  trouble  you  very 
much,  but  you  are  so  kind.  I'll  go  and  write  it." 

She  tried  to  rise,  but  she  was  still  so  shaken  that 
involuntarily  he  put  out  his  hand  to  help  her.  At 
the  old  mahogany  desk  between  the  windows  she 
hunted  about  for  paper  and  pencil,  and  when  she 
found  them,  wrote  for  a  moment,  rapidly;  then  paused, 
and  tore  the  paper  up.  William  glanced  at  her  side- 
wise;  she  was  pressing  the  pencil  against  her  lips,  her 
left  hand  opening  and  closing  with  agitation.  The  doc 
tor  shook  his  head.  "That  won't  do,"  he  said  to  him 
self.  Again  she  wrote ;  again  hesitated ;  again  tore  the 
sheet  of  paper  across.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  waited 
a  long  time.  But  when  she  brought  him  the  message, 
it  was  very  short;  only:  "F.  is  dead"  and  her  initials. 
It  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Lloyd  Pryor. 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  she  said;  her 
color  was  coming  back,  and  she  had  evidently  got  con 
trol  of  herself.  But  she  hardly  noticed  William's  fare 
well,  and  he  had  not  reached  the  front  door  before  she 
began  to  pace  tip  and  down  the  parlor. 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Well!"  said  Martha,  "was  it  a  brother,  or  sister? 
How  did  she  take  it  ?  I  suppose  you  think  she  found 
it  easier  because  you  broke  it  to  her.  I  must  say, 
William,  flatly  and  frankly,  that  I  think  a  nice  woman 
would  rather  have  a  woman  near  her  when  she  is  in 
trouble,  than  a  man.  I  was  very  tired,  but  I  was 
perfectly  willing  to  remain.  Well!  what  relation  was 
this  P.?  A  cousin?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  the  doctor  confessed  blankly; 
"she  didn't  say,  and  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask; 
and—" 

"  Well,  upon  my  word!"  said  Martha  King. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HELENA  stood  breathing  quickly;  it  was  as  if  she 
had  been  smothering,  and  suddenly  felt  free  air. 
She  was  alone.  The  people — the  terrible,  persistently 
friendly,  suffocating  people,  were  gone!  She  could 
draw  a  full  breath;  she  could  face  her  own  blazing 
fact;  .  .  .  Frederick  was  dead. 

She  was  walking  back  and  forth,  staring  with  tin- 
seeing  eyes  at  the  confusion  of  the  room — chairs  pulled 
out  from  their  accustomed  places;  two  card-tables 
with  a  litter  of  cards  and  counters ;  the  astral-lamp 
burning  low  on  the  rosewood  table  that  was  cluttered 
with  old  daguerreotypes  belonging  to  the  house.  The 
dining-room  door  was  ajar,  and  as  she  passed  it  she 
had  a  glimpse  of  the  empty  disorder  of  the  room,  and 
could  hear  her  two  women  moving  about,  carrying  off 
plates  and  glasses  and  talking  to  each  other. 

"Well,  I  like  company,"  she  heard  Sarah  say.  "I 
wish  she'd  have  somebody  in  every  day." 

And  Maggie's  harsh  murmur:  "You  ain't  got  to 
cook  for  'em."  Then  the  clatter  of  forks  and  spoons 
in  the  pantry. 

"Seemed  to  me  like  as  if  she  wasn't  real  glad  to  see 
'em,"  Sarah  commented.  "My!  look  at  all  this  here 
good  cake  crumbled  up  on  somebody's  plate." 

"Well,  a  widow  woman  don't  enjoy  company," 
Maggie  explained. 

207 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

A  minute  later  Sarah  came  bustling  in  to  close  the 
parlor  windows  for  the  night,  and  started  to  find  the 
room  still  occupied.  "I  thought  you  had  gone  up 
stairs,  ma'am,"  the  girl  stammered,  wondering  ner 
vously  if  she  had  said  anything  that  she  would  not  care 
to  have  overheard. 

"I  am  going  now,"  Mrs.  Richie  said,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  and  opening  and  shutting  her  eyes  in  a  dazed 
way; — "like  as  if  she'd  been  asleep  and  was  woke  up, 
sudden,"  Sarah  told  Maggie  later. 

In  her  own  room,  the  door  locked,  she  sank  down 
in  a  chair,  her  clasped  hands  falling  between  her 
knees,  her  eyes  staring  at  the  floor. 

Dead. 

How  long  he  had  been  about  dying.  Thirteen  years 
ago  Lloyd  had  said,  "He'll  drink  himself  to  death  in 
six  months;  and  then — I"  Well;  at  least  part  of  the 
programme  was  carried  out:  he  drank.  But  he  did 
not  die.  No;  he  went  on  living,  living,  living!  That 
first  year  they  were  constantly  asking  each  other  for 
news  of  him:  "Have  you  heard  anything?"  "Yes; 
an  awful  debauch.  Oh,  he  can't  stand  it.  He'll  be 
in  his  grave  before  Christmas."  But  Christmas  came, 
and  Frederick  was  still  living.  Then  it  was  "before 
spring" — ''before  fall" — "before  Christmas"  again. 
And  yet  he  went  on  living.  And  she  had  gone  on 
living,  too.  At  first,  joyously,  except  when  she 
brooded  over  the  baby's  death;  then  impatiently — for 
Frederick  would  not  die!  Then,  gradually,  gradually, 
with  weary  acceptance  of  the  situation.  Only  in  the 
last  two  or  three  years  had  she  begun  to  live  anxious 
ly,  as  she  realized  how  easily  Lloyd  was  accepting 
Frederick's  lease  of  life.  Less  and  less  often  he  in 
quired  whether  Mr.  Raynor  had  mentioned  Frederick's 

208 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

health  in  the  letter  that  came  with  her  quarterly  state 
ment.  By  and  by,  it  was  she,  not  Lloyd,  who  asked, 
"Have  you  heard  anything  of  Frederick?" 

The  house  was  quite  silent  now,  except  when  Sarah 
trudged  up  the  back  stairs  with  the  clanking  silver- 
basket  on  her  arm.  The  lamp  on  the  corner  of  her 
bureau  flickered,  and  a  spark  wavered  up  the  chimney ; 
the  oil  was  gone  and  the  wick  charring.  She  got  up 
and  blew  the  smouldering  flame  out;  then  sat  down 
again  in  the  darkness.  .  .  .  Yes;  Lloyd  was  no  longer 
vitally  interested  in  Frederick's  health.  She  must 
make  up  her  mind  to  that.  But  after  all,  what  differ 
ence  did  that  make  ?  He  loved  her  just  the  same ;  only 
men  are  not  like  women,  they  don't  keep  on  saying  so; 
— for  that  matter,  she  herself  did  not  say  so  as  often  as 
in  those  first  days.  But  of  course  she  loved  him  just 
as  much.  She  had  grown  a  little  dull,  she  supposed. 
No ;  she  would  not  distrust  him.  She  was  sure  he  loved 
her.  Yet  behind  her  most  emphatic  assertions  cowered 
that  dumb  apprehension  which  had  struck  its  cold 
talons  into  her  heart  the  day  that  David  had  hurt  his 
hand:  .  .  .  Suppose  Frederick's  death  should  be  an  em 
barrassment  to  Lloyd  ! 

In  the  darkness,  with  the  brush  of  the  locust  branches 
against  the  closed  shutters  of  the  east  window,  her  face 
blazed  with  angry  color,  and  she  threw  her  head  up 
with  a  surge  of  pride.  "  If  he  doesn't  want  me,  I  don't 
want  him!"  she  said  aloud.  She  pulled  the  lace  bertha 
from  her  shoulders,  and  began  to  take  out  her  hairpins ; 
"/  sha'n't  be  the  one  to  say  'Let  us  be  married.'" 

When  she  lay  down  in  the  darkness,  her  eyes  wide 
open,  her  arms  straight  at  her  sides,  it  flashed  into  her 
mind  that  Frederick  was  lying  still  and  straight,  too. 

209 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

His  face  must  be  white,  now;  sunken,  perhaps;  the 
leer  of  his  pale  eyes  changed  into  the  sly  smile  of  the 
dead.  Dead.  Oh,  at  last,  at  last! — and  her  mind 
rushed  back  to  its  own  affairs.  .  .  .  That  horrible  old 
Mr.  Wright  and  his  insinuations ;  how  she  had  worried 
over  them  and  over  the  difficulty  of  getting  away  from 
Old  Chester,  only  that  afternoon.  Ah,  well,  she  need 
never  think  of  such  things  again,  for  never  again  could 
any  one  have  an  insulting  thought  about  her;  and  as 
for  her  fear  that  Lloyd  would  not  want  her  to  leave 
Old  Chester — why,  he  would  take  her  away  himself! 
And  once  outside  of  Old  Chester,  she  would  have  a 
place  in  the  world  like  other  women.  She  was  con 
scious  of  a  sudden  and  passionate  elation:  Like  other 
women.  The  very  words  were  triumphant !  Yes;  like 
that  dreadful  Mrs.  King;  oh,  how  intolerably  stupid 
the  woman  was,  how  she  disliked  her ;  but  when  Lloyd 
came  and  they  went  away  together,  she  would  be  like 
Mrs.  King!  She  drew  an  exultant  breath  and  smiled 
proudly  in  the  darkness.  For  the  moment  the  cower 
ing  fear  was  forgotten.  .  .  .  How  soon  could  he  come  ? 
He  ought  to  have  the  telegram  by  ten  the  next  morn 
ing — too  late  to  catch  the  express  for  Mercer.  He 
would  take  the  night  train,  and  arrive  at  noon  on 
Saturday.  A  day  and  a  half  to  wait.  And  at  that  she 
realized  with  sudden  astonishment  that  it  was  still 
Thursday.  It  seemed  hours  and  hours  since  she  had 
read  that  telegram.  Yet  it  was  scarcely  an  hour  ago 
that  she  had  been  dancing  the  Virginia  reel  with  those 
terrible  people!  A  little  later  she  had  noticed  William 
King  lingering  behind  the  departing  guests;  how  an 
noyed  she  had  been  at  his  slowness.  Then  he  had 
taken  that  envelope  out  of  his  pocket — she  gasped 
again,  remembering  the  shock  of  its  contents. 

210 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

In  this  tumult  of  broken  and  incoherent  thought,  the 
night  passed.  It  was  not  until  dawn  that  her  mind 
cleared  enough  for  consecutive  thinking,  and  when  it 
did  she  was  so  fatigued  that  she  fell  asleep  and  slept 
heavily  till  awakened  by  an  anxious  knock  at  her  door. 
Had  Mrs.  Richie  one  of  her  headaches  ?  Should  Sarah 
bring  her  some  coffee  ? 

"  Why,  what  time  is  it  ?  Has  David  gone  to  school  ? 
What!  ten  o'clock!"  She  was  broad  awake  at  that — • 
he  must  have  got  the  despatch.  Allowing  for  delays, 
his  answer  ought  to  reach  her  by  noon. 

She  sprang  up  with  the  instinct  to  do  some  thing  1 
to  get  ready!  She  began  to  plan  her  packing,  the  thrill 
of  action  tingling  through  her.  She  dressed  hurriedly, 
looking  incessantly  at  the  clock,  and  then  laughing  to 
herself.  What  difference  did  it  make  how  late  it  was  ? 
By  no  possibility  could  Lloyd  appear  on  the  morning 
stage;  unless,  yes,  it  was  possible;  Mr.  Raynor  might 
have  telegraphed  him.  No;  Mr.  Raynor  had  never 
recognized  the  situation.  Lloyd  could  not  reach  her 
until  noon  on  Saturday ;  he  could  only  telegraph.  She 
sighed  and  resigned  herself  to  facts,  drinking  the  coffee 
Sarah  brought  her,  and  asking  whether  David  was  all 
right.  "Poor  darling,  having  his  breakfast  all  alone," 
she  said.  Then  she  looked  at  the  clock;  Lloyd's 
despatch  could  hardly  arrive  for  another  hour. 

The  still,  hot  morning  stretched  interminably  before 
her.  A  dozen  times  it  was  on  her  lips  to  order  the 
trunks  brought  down  from  the  garret.  A  dozen  times 
some  undefined  sense  of  fitness  held  her  back.  When 
his  answer  came,  when  he  actually  said  the  word — 
then;  but  not  till  then.  .  .  .  What  time  was  it?  After 
eleven!  She  would  go  into  the  garden,  where  she  could 
look  down  the  road  and  have  the  first  glimpse  of  Eddy 

211 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Minns  climbing  the  hill.  With  her  thoughts  in  gallop 
ing  confusion,  she  put  on  her  flat  hat  with  its  twist 
of  white  lace  about  the  crown,  and  went  out  into  the 
heat.  From  the  bench  under  the  big  poplar  she  looked 
across  at  the  girdling  hills,  blue  and  hot  in  the  still  flood 
of  noon ;  below  her  was  the  valley,  now  a  sea  of  treetops 
islanded  with  Old  Chester  roofs  and  chimneys;  there 
was  no  gleam  of  the  river  through  the  midsummer 
foliage.  She  took  her  watch  out  of  the  little  watch- 
pocket  at  her  waist — nearly  twelve!  If  he  had  got  the 
despatch  at  nine,  it  was  surely  time  for  an  answer. 
Still,  so  many  things  might  have  happened  to  delay  it. 
He  might  have  been  late  in  getting  to  his  office ;  or,  for 
that  matter,  Eddy  Minns  might  be  slow  about  coming 
up  the  hill.  Everybody  was  slow  in  Old  Chester! 

The  empty  road  ran  down  to  the  foot  of  the  hill ;  no 
trudging  messenger  climbed  its  hot  slope.  Twelve! 
"I'll  not  look  at  the  road  for  five  minutes,"  she  told 
herself,  resolutely,  and  sat  staring  at  the  watch  open 
in  her  hand.  Five  minutes  later  she  snapped  the  lid 
shut,  and  looked.  Blazing,  unbroken  sunshine.  "It 
ought  to  have  been  here  by  this  time,*'  she  thought 
with  a  tightening  of  her  lips.  Perhaps  he  was  away  ? 
Her  heart  sank  at  that ;  but  how  absurd !  Suppose  he 
was.  What  did  a  few  hours'  waiting  amount  to  ?  She 
had  waited  thirteen  years. 

For  another  hour  she  watched  in  the  heat  and  silence 
of  the  garden ;  then  started  to  hear  Sarah,  at  her  elbow, 
saying  that  dinner  was  on  the  table. 

"Very  well,"  she  answered  impatiently.  "I'll  wait 
another  five  minutes,"  she  said  to  herself.  But  she 
waited  ten.  When  she  sat  down  in  the  dining-room, 
she  ate  almost  nothing.  Once  she  asked  Sarah  if  she 
knew  how  long  it  took  for  a  despatch  to  come  from 

212 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Philadelphia  to  Old  Chester.  Sarah  gaped  at  the  ques 
tion,  and  said  she  didn't  know  as  she'd  ever  heard. 

In  the  afternoon,  with  covert  glances  out  of  the  win 
dow,  she  kept  indoors  and  tried  to  put  her  mind  on 
practical  things:  the  arrangements  with  her  landlord 
for  cancelling  the  lease;  the  packing  and  shipping  of 
furniture.  At  last,  on  a  sudden  impulse,  she  said  to 
herself  that  she  would  go  and  meet  David  as  he  came 
home  from  school — and  call  at  the  telegraph-office. 

In  the  post-office,  where  the  telegraph  bound  Old 
Chester  to  the  outer  world,  Mrs.  Minns,  looking  up  from 
her  knitting,  saw  the  tense  face  at  the  delivery  window. 

"No  letters  for  you,  Mrs.  Richie,"  she  said;  then  she 
remembered  the  telegram  that  had  by  this  time  inter 
ested  all  Old  Chester,  and  got  up  and  came  forward, 
sympathetically  curious.  "Well'm;  I  suppose  there's 
a  good  deal  of  dyin'  this  time  of  year?" 

"Have  you  a  despatch  for  me?"  Mrs.  Richie  said 
curtly. 

"No'm;"  said  Mrs.  Minns. 

"  Did  Dr.  King  send  a  telegram  for  me  this  morning  ?" 
she  asked  in  a  sudden  panic  of  alarm. 

"Yes'm,"  the  postmistress  said,  "he  sent  it." 

Mrs.  Richie  turned  away,  and  began  to  walk  about 
the  office;  up  and  down,  up  and  down.  Once  she 
stopped  and  read  the  names  on  the  pigeonholes  of  the 
letter-rack;  once  the  telegraph  instrument  clicked,  and 
she  held  her  breath:  " Is  that  mine?" 

"It  ain't,"  Mrs.  Minns  said  laconically. 

Helena  went  to  the  open  doorway,  and  gazed  blankly 
out  into  Main  Street.  She  might  as  well  go  home;  he 
wasn't  going  to  telegraph.  She  told  herself  that  he 
was  out  of  town,  and  had  not  received  her  despatch. 
But  her  explanation  was  not  convincing;  if  he  was 

213 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

away,  the  despatch  would  have  been  forwarded  to  him. 
It  must  be  that  as  he  was  coming  on  Saturday,  he  had 
not  thought  it  worth  while  to  telegraph.  She  wan 
dered  aimlessly  out  into  the  hot  street — there  was  no 
use  waiting  any  longer;  and  as  for  meeting  David,  he 
had  gone  home  long  ago. 

As  she  went  up  the  street,  Dr.  Lavendar  stopped  her. 
He  had  been  told  that  the  news  of  the  night  before  did 
not  mean  affliction,  but  Dr.  Lavendar  knew  that  there 
are  worse  things  than  affliction,  so  he  stood  ready  to 
offer  comfort  if  it  was  needed.  But  apparently  it  was 
not  wanted,  and  after  a  minute's  pause,  he  began  to 
speak  of  his  own  affairs:  "I've  been  wondering  if  you 
would  trust  David  to  me  for  two  or  three  days  in 
October." 

"David?"  she  repeated,  blankly;  her  mind  was  very 
far  away  from  David. 

"I  have  to  go  to  Philadelphia  then;"  Dr.  Lavendar 
was  really  eager;  "and  if  you  will  let  me  take  him 
along — I  guess  Rose  Knight  will  let  him  off — we  would 
have  a  fine  time!" 

"Certainly,  Dr.  Lavendar,"  she  said,  courteously. 
But  she  thought  quickly,  that  she  and  David  would  not 
be  in  Old  Chester  in  October.  However,  she  could  not 
explain  that  to  Dr.  Lavendar.  It  was  easier  to  say  yes, 
and  be  done  with  it.  "Good  evening,"  she  added 
impatiently,  for  the  old  gentleman  would  have  kept 
her  indefinitely,  talking  about  David. 

But  as  she  climbed  the  hill  her  mind  went  out  to  the 
child  with  the  relief  of  one  who  in  darkness  opens  a 
door  towards  the  light.  She  found  him  in  the  parlor, 
curled  up  in  a  big  chair  by  the  window,  looking  at  a 
picture-book.  He  climbed  down  immediately,  and 
came  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  a  demonstration  of 

214 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

affection  so  unusual  that  she  caught  him  in  her  arms 
and  might  have  cuddled  him  with  the  undesired  ''forty 
kisses,"  if  he  had  not  gently  moved  his  head  aside. 
But  her  eyes  were  so  blurred  with  tears  of  fatigue  and 
fright  she  did  not  notice  the  rebuff. 

The  next  twenty-four  hours  were  tense  with  expecta 
tion  and  fear.  Helena's  mind  veered  almost  with  every 
breath:  He  had  not  telegraphed  because  he  had  not 
received  her  despatch;  because  he  was  away  from 
home;  because  he  was  coming  on  Saturday; — because 
lie  was  sorry  Frederick  was  dead  .  .  . 

Saturday  morning  she  and  David  watched  the  hill 
road  from  nine  o'clock  until  stage-time.  From  the 
green  bench  under  the  poplar,  the  tavern  porch  on 
Main  Street  could  just  be  seen;  and  at  a  little  before 
twelve  Jonas's  lean,  shambling  nags  drew  up  before  it. 
Mrs.  Richie  was  very  pale.  David,  fretting  at  the 
dulness  of  the  morning,  asked  her  some  question,  but 
she  did  not  hear  him,  and  he  pulled  at  her  skirt.  "  Does 
everything  grow?" 

"Yes,  dear,  yes;  I  suppose  so." 

"How  big  is  everything  when  it  begins  to  grow?" 

"Oh,  dear  little  boy,  don't  ask  so  many  questions!'* 

"When  you  began  to  grow,  how  big  were  you? 
Were  you  an  inch  big?'* 

"If  he  has  come,"  she  said  breathlessly,  "the  stage 
will  get  up  here  in  fifteen  minutes!" 

David  sighed. 

"Oh,  why  don't  they  start?"  she  panted;  "what  is 
the  matter!" 

"It's  starting,"  David  said. 

"Come,  David,  hurry!"  she  cried.  "We  must  be  at 
the  gate!"  She  took  his  hand,  and  ran  down  the  path 

215 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

to  the  gate  in  the  hedge.  As  she  stood  there,  panting, 
she  pressed  her  fingers  hard  on  her  lips ;  they  must  not 
quiver  before  the  child.  She  kept  her  watch  in  her 
hand.  "It  isn't  time  yet  to  see  them;  it  will  take 
Jonas  ten  minutes  to  get  around  to  the  foot  of  the 
hill." 

Overhead  the  flicker  of  locust  leaves  cast  checkering 
lights  and  shadows  on  her  white  dress  and  across  the 
strained  anxiety  of  her  face.  She  kept  her  eyes  on  her 
watch,  and  the  ten  minutes  passed  in  silence.  Then 
she  went  out  into  the  road  and  looked  down  its  length 
of  noon-tide  sunshine;  the  stage  was  not  in  sight. 
"Perhaps,"  she  thought,  "it  would  take  twenty  min 
utes  to  get  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  ?  I'll  not  look  down 
the  road  for  ten  minutes  more."  After  a  while  she 
said  faintly,  "Is  it — coming?" 

"No'm,"  David  assured  her.  "Mrs.  Richie,  what 
does  God  eat?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Does  he  eat  us?" 

"No;  of  course  not." 

"Why  not?" 

Helena  lifted  her  head,  suddenly;  "It  would  take 
twenty-five  minutes — I'm  sure  it  would." 

She  got  up  and  walked  a  little  way  down  the  road, 
David  tagging  thoughtfully  behind  her.  There  was 
no  stage  in  sight.  "David,  run  down  the  hill  to  the 
turn,  and  look." 

The  little  boy,  nothing  loath,  ran;  at  the  turn  he 
shook  his  head,  and  called  back,  "No'm.  Mrs.  Richie, 
He  must,  'cause  there's  nothing  goes  to  heaven  but  us. 
Chickens  don't,"  he  explained  anxiously.  But  she  did 
not  notice  his  alarm. 

"I'll  wait   another  five  minutes,"   she  said.     She 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

waited  ten;  and  then  another  ten.  "  David,"  she  said, 
in  a  smothered  voice,  "go;  tell  Maggie  he  isn't  coming 
— to  dinner.  You  have  your  dinner,  dear  little  boy. 
I — don't  want  any." 

She  went  up-stairs  to  her  own  room,  and  shut  and 
locked  the  door.  All  was  over.  .  .  . 

Yet  when,  in  the  early  afternoon,  the  mail  arrived, 
she  had  a  pang  of  hope  that  was  absolute  agony,  for 
he  had  written. 

There  were  only  a  dozen  lines  besides  the  "  Dearest 
Nelly": 

*'I  am  just  starting  out  West,  rather  unexpectedly,  on 
business.  I  am  taking  Alice  along,  and  she  is  greatly  delighted 
at  the  idea  of  a  journey — her  first.  I  don't  know  just  when 
I'll  get  back;  not  for  six  weeks  anyhow.  Probably  eight, 
Hope  you  and  your  youngster  are  all  right. 

"  Yours,  L.  P. 

"Your  despatch  received.  We  must  talk  things  over  the 
next  time  I  come  to  Old  Chester." 

She  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes  in  a  bewildered 
way ;  for  a  moment  the  words  had  absolutely  no  sense. 
Then  she  read  them  again:  "We  must  talk  things 
over — •" 

What  things?  Why,  their  marriage,  of  course! 
Their  marriage  ?  She  burst  out  laughing ;  and  David, 
looking  at  her,  shrank  away. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE  next  few  days  were  intolerable.  But  of 
course,  after  the  first  passion  of  disappointment, 
she  began  to  hope;  he  would  write  fully  in  a  few  days. 
She  kept  calculating  how  soon  she  might  expect  this 
fuller  letter.  She  did  not  write  to  him,  for  as  he  had 
given  no  address  it  was  evident  that  he  did  not  wish 
to  hear  from  her. 

That  week  passed,  and  then  another,  and  though  he 
wrote,  he  did  not  write  "fully."  In  fact,  he  made  no 
allusion  whatever  to  Frederick,  or  the  future.  Helena 
was  instant  with  explanation:  he  was  absorbed  with 
business;  Alice  was  with  him;  he  had  no  time.  That 
these  were  absurd  excuses  she  knew.  But  they  were 
the  best  she  could  find,  and  she  had  to  have  excuses. 
It  was  at  this  time  that  she  saw  herself  age.  When 
still  another  week  passed,  the  tension  lessened;  indeed, 
she  would  have  broken  down  under  the  strain  if  she 
had  not  fallen  into  a  sort  of  apathy.  She  told  herself 
that  after  all  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  leave 
Old  Chester  immediately.  Mr.  Benjamin  Wright's  in 
solence  had  been  outrageous  and  he  was  a  horrible  old 
man ;  but  he  had  said  that  he  would  not  speak  of  her 
affairs.  So  as  far  as  he  was  concerned  she  could  per 
fectly  well  wait  until  that  Western  trip  was  over;  she 
would  just  try  not  to  think  of  him.  So  she  played  with 
David,  and  talked  to  him,  and  listened  to  his  confi- 

218 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIfi 

dences  about  the  journey  to  Philadelphia  which  Dr. 
Lavendar  planned.  It  was  more  than  two  months  off, 
but  that  did  not  trouble  David.  He  and  Dr.  Lavendar 
had  long  talks  on  the  subject,  of  which,  occasionally, 
the  little  boy  dropped  condescending  hints. 

"Maybe  I'll  take  you  to  Philadelphia,"  Helena  said 
once,  jealously;  "will  you  like  that?" 

"Yes'm,"  said  David,  without  enthusiasm. 

At  which  she  reproached  him;  "I  should  think  you 
would  like  to  go  with  me,  to  see  Liberty  Bell?" 

Silence. 

"And  maybe  Mr.  Pryor  will  take  you  to  ride  on  a 
steamboat,"  she  lured  him. 

"I  like  Dr.  Lavendar  best,"  said  David,  with  alarm. 

It  was  only  David  with  whom  Helena  talked  in 
these  days  of  waiting;  Old  Chester  found  her  still  un 
sociable,  and  William  King  was  obliged  to  admit  that 
his  party  had  not  accomplished  much.  However,  he 
insisted  upon  being  sociable  himself,  and  continued 
to  come  frequently  to  see  her  on  the  ground  that  she 
was  not  very  well.  Before  she  knew  it  she  yielded 
again  to  the  temptation  of  friendliness,  and  was  glad 
to  see  the  big,  kind  figure  trudging  up  the  garden 
path.  He  told  her  all  the  news  Old  Chester  afforded, 
which  was  not  extensive,  and  she  replied  with  that 
listening  silence  which  is  so  pleasant  and  that  gave 
the  doctor  the  opportunity — so  valued  by  us  all — of 
hearing  himself  talk;  an  opportunity  not  often  al 
lowed  him  in  his  own  house.  The  silence  covered 
bleak  anxiety  and  often  an  entire  absence  of  mind; 
but  William,  rambling  on,  could  not  know  that.  He 
was  perfectly  happy  to  look  at  her,  although  some 
times  his  face  sobered,  for  hers  had  changed.  It  was 
paler;  the  delicate  oval  of  her  cheek  had  hollowed; 
is  219 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA  RICHIE 

the  charming  indolence  had  gone,  the  eyes  had  lost 
their  sweet  shallowness,  something  cowered  in  their 
depths  that  he  could  not  clearly  see — fear,  perhaps,  or 
pain.  Or  perhaps  it  was  her  soul.  Sometimes  when 
the  body  relaxes  its  grip  a  little,  the  convict  soul  with 
in  struggles  up  to  look  with  frightened  bewilderment 
out  of  the  windows  of  its  prison.  Dr.  King  watching 
the  childlike  droop  of  Helena's  lip,  admitted  reluctant 
ly  that  she  had  changed.  "Depressed,"  he  told  him 
self.  So  he  did  his  best  to  cheer  her  with  Old  Ches 
ter's  harmless  gossip;  and  one  day — it  was  in  Sep 
tember — she  did  show  a  quick  and  even  anxious 
interest. 

"Sam  Wright's  Sam  has  come  back,"  the  doctor 
said,  "the  young  man  arrived  on  the  noon  stage.  I 
wonder  what  monkey-shines  he'll  be  up  to  next!" 

"Oh!"  she  said,  and  he  saw  her  hands  clasp  in  her 
lap;  "I  wonder  if  his  grandfather  knows?" 

The  color  was  hot  in  her  face,  and  William  said  to 
himself  that  the  cub  ought  to  be  thrashed!  "Maybe 
he's  got  some  sense  by  this  journey  in  search  of  a 
publisher,"  he  announced  comfortingly. 

In  her  consciousness  of  old  Mr.  Wright's  dismay, 
she  hardly  heard  what  the  doctor  said;  but  she  asked 
vaguely  if  Sam  had  found  a  publisher. 

"Perhaps;  I  don't  know.  There  are  fools  in  every 
profession — except  medicine,  of  course!  But  I  believe 
he  has  not  imparted  any  information  on  that  point. 
His  father  merely  told  me  he  had  come  back."  In 
spite  of  himself,  William's  face  fell  into  its  own  kind 
lines.  "His  father  is  hard  on  him,"  he  said;  and 
then  he  began  to  tell  her  stories  of  the  three  genera 
tions  of  Wrights;  ending  with  the  statement  that,  in 
a  dumb  sort  of  fashion,  Samuel  loved  his  son  like  the 

220 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

apple  of  his  eye.  "But  he  has  always  taken  hold  of 
him  the  wrong  way,"  William  said. 

Certainly  the  doctor's  opinion  was  borne  out  by 
the  way  in  which  Sam  senior  took  hold  of  his  son  on 
his  return.  Reproaches  were  perhaps  to  be  expected ; 
but,  alas,  the  poor,  sore-hearted  father  tried  sneers 
as  well.  A  sneer  is  like  a  flame;  it  may  occasionally  be 
curative  because  it  cauterizes,  but  it  leaves  a  bitter 
scar.  Of  his  dreadful  anxiety  in  these  seven  or  eight 
weeks  of  absence,  of  his  sleepless  nights,  of  his  self- 
accusings,  of  his  anguished  affection,  the  senior  warden 
could  find  nothing  to  say;  but  for  anger  and  disap 
pointment  and  contempt  he  had  fluent  and  searing 
words.  Such  words  were  only  the  recoil  from  anxiety  J 
but  Sam  could  not  know  that;  he  only  knew  that  he 
was  a  disgrace  to  his  family.  The  information  left 
him  apparently  unmoved.  He  did  not  betray — very 
likely  he  really  did  not  recognize  in  himself — the 
moral  let-down  that  is  almost  always  the  result  of  such 
upbraiding.  He  was  silent  under  his  father's  re 
proaches,  and  patient  under  his  mother's  embraces. 
He  vouchsafed  no  information  beyond,  "I  had  to 
come  back,"  which  was  really  no  information  at  all. 
Mr.  Wright  sneered  at  it,  but  Mrs.  Wright  was  moved; 
she  said,  her  mild  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  "Of  course, 
Sammy,  dear.  Mother  understands.  I  knew  you 
couldn't  stay  away  from  us." 

Sam  sighed,  submitting  to  be  kissed,  and  turned  to 
go  up-stairs;  but  something  made  him  hesitate, — per 
haps  his  mother's  worn  face.  He  came  back,  and 
bending  down  kissed  her  cheek.  Mrs.  Wright  caught 
her  breath  with  astonishment,  but  the  boy  made  no 
explanation.  He  went  on  up  to  his  own  room  and 
standing  listlessly  at  the  window,  said  again  to  him- 

221 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

self,  "I  had  to  come  back."  After  a  while  he  added, 
"But  I  won't  bother  her."  He  had  already  forgotten 
the  two  sore  hearts  down-stairs. 

The  next  morning  he  hurried  to  church;  but  Mrs. 
Richie  was  not  there,  and  in  his  disappointment  he 
was  as  blind  to  Old  Chester's  curious  glances  as  he 
was  deaf  to  Dr.  Lavendar's  sermon. 

The  long  morning  loitered  past.  After  dinner  the 
Wright  family  dispersed  for  its  customary  Sunday 
afternoon  nap.  The  senior  warden,  with  The  Epis 
copalian,  as  large  as  a  small  blanket,  spread  over  his 
face,  slept  heavily  in  the  library;  Mrs.  Wright  dozed  in 
her  bedroom  with  one  finger  marking  her  place  in  a 
closed  volume  of  sermons;  the  little  girls  wandered 
stealthily  about  the  garden,  memorizing  by  their 
father's  orders  their  weekly  hymn.  The  house  was 
still,  and  very  hot.  All  the  afternoon  young  Sam  lay 
upon  his  bed  turning  the  pages  of  The  Wealth  of  Na 
tions,  and  brooding  over  his  failures:  he  could  not 
make  Mrs.  Richie  love  him;  he  could  not  write  a 
great  drama ;  he  could  not  add  up  a  column  of  figures ; 
he  could  not  understand  his  father's  rages  at  unim 
portant  things;  "and  nobody  cares  a  continental 
whether  I  am  dead  or  alive! — except  mother,"  he 
ended;  and  his  face  softened.  At  five  o'clock  he  re 
minded  himself  that  he  must  go  up  to  The  Top  for 
supper.  But  it  was  nearly  six  before  he  had  energy 
enough  to  rise.  The  fact  was,  he  shrank  from  telling 
his  grandfather  that  the  drama  was  no  longer  in  ex 
istence.  He  had  been  somewhat  rudely  rebuffed  by 
the  only  person  who  had  looked  at  his  manuscript, 
and  had  promptly  torn  the  play  up  and  scattered  the 
fragments  out  of  the  window  of  his  boarding-house, 
was  twq  days  ago.  The  curious  Iassitu4e 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

followed  this  acc&s  of  passion  was  probably  increased 
by  the  senior  warden's  reproaches.  But  Sam  believed 
himself  entirely  indifferent  both  to  his  literary  failure, 
and  to  his  father's  scolding.  Neither  was  in  his 
mind  as  he  climbed  the  hill,  and  halted  for  a  wistful 
moment  at  the  green  gate  in  the  hedge ;  but  he  had  no 
glimpse  of  Mrs.  Richie. 

He  found  his  grandfather  sitting  on  the  veranda 
behind  the  big  white  columns,  reading  aloud,  and 
gesticulating  with  one  hand: 

"  '  But  if  proud  Mortimer  do  wear  this  crown, 
Heaven  turn  it  to  a  blaze  of  quenchless  fire! 
Or  like  the  snaky  wreath  of  Sisiphon — ' " 

He  looked  up  irritably  at  the  sound  of  a  step  on  the 
weedy  driveway,  then  his  eyes  snapped  with  delight 

"Hullo— hullo!  what's  this?" 

"I  had  to  come  back,  grandfather,"  Sam  said. 

"Well!  Well!"  said  Benjamin  Wright,  his  whole 
face  wrinkling  with  pleasure.  "'Had  to  come  back?' 
Money  gave  out,  I  suppose?  Sit  down,  sit  down! 
Hi,  Simmons!  Damn  that  nigger.  Simmons,  here's 
Master  Sam.  What  have  you  got  for  supper?  Well, 
young  man,  did  you  get  some  sense  knocked  into  you?" 
He  was  trembling  with  eagerness.  Marlowe,  in  worm- 
eaten  calf,  dropped  from  his  hand  to  the  porch  floor. 
Sam  picked  the  book  up,  and  sat  down. 

"If  you  wanted  some  more  money,  why  the  devil 
didn't  you  say  so?" 

"I  had  money  enough,  sir." 

"Well — what  about  the  drama?"  his  grandfather 
demanded. 

"He  said  it  was  no  good." 

"Who  said  it  was  no  good?"  Mr.  Wright  pulled 
223 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

off  his  hat,  fiercely,  and  began  to  chew  orange-skin. 
Sam,  vaguely  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  book 
upon  his  knee,  mentioned  the  name  of  a  publisher. 
"Fool!"  said  Benjamin  Wright;  "what  does  he  know? 
Well;  I  hope  you  didn't  waste  time  over  him.  Then 
who  did  you  send  it  to?" 

"Nobody." 

"Nobody!     What  did  you  do  with  it?" 

"Oh,  tore  it  up,"  Sam  said  patiently. 

His  grandfather  fell  back  in  his  chair,  speechless. 
A  moment  later,  he  told  Sam  he  was  not  only  a  fool, 
but  a  d 

"  Supper's  ready,  suh,"  said  Simmons.  "  Glad  you're 
back,  Master  Sam.  He  ain't  lookin'  peart,  suh?" 
Simmons  added  confidentially  to  Mr.  Wright. 

"Well,  you  get  some  of  that  Maderia — '12,"  com 
manded  the  old  man,  pulling  himself  up  from  his  chair. 
"Sam,  you  are  a  born  idiot,  aren't  you?  Come  and 
have  some  supper.  Didn't  I  tell  you  you  might  have 
to  try  a  dozen  publishers  before  you  found  one  who 
had  any  sense  ?  Your  experience  just  shows  they're  a 
fool  lot.  And  you  tore  up  your  manuscript!  Gad-a- 
mercy!"  He  grinned  and  swore  alternately,  and  bang 
ed  his  hat  on  to  his  head  so  that  his  ears  flattened  out 
beneath  the  brim  like  two  red  flaps. 

They  sat  down  at  either  end  of  the  dining-room  table, 
Simmons  standing  at  one  side,  his  yellow  eyes  gleaming 
with  interested  affection  and  his  fly-brush  of  long  pea 
cock  feathers  waving  steadily,  even  when  he  moved 
about  with  the  decanter. 

"I  had  to. come  back,"  Sam  repeated,  and  drank  his 
glass  of  '12  Maderia  with  as  much  appreciation  as  if  it 
had  been  water. 

"I've  got  a  new  family,"  Mr.  Wright  declared. 
224 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Simmons,  unhook  that  second  cage,  and  show  him 
the  nest.  Look  at  that.  Three  of  'em.  Hideous, 
ain't  they?  Simmons,  you  didn't  chop  that  egg  fine 
enough.  Do  you  want  to  kill  'em  all  ?  A  nigger  has 
no  more  feeling  for  birds  than  a  cat." 

"I  done  chop  it,  as — " 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  said  Mr.  Wright,  amiably. 
"Here;  take  that."  He  fumbled  in  his  vest  pocket, 
and  the  peacock  feathers  dipped  dangerously  as  Sim 
mons  caught  the  expected  cigar.  "Come,  come,  young 
man,  haven't  you  had  enough  to  eat?  Give  him  an 
other  glass  of  wine,  Simmons,  you  freckled  nigger! 
Come  out  on  the  porch,  and  tell  me  your  wanderings, 
Ulysses." 

The  boy  was  faintly  impressed  by  his  grandfather's 
attentions;  he  felt  that  he  was  welcome,  which  gave 
him  a  vague  sort  of  pleasure.  On  the  porch,  in  the  hot 
dusk,  Benjamin  Wright  talked;  once  or  twice,  apropos 
of  nothing,  he  quoted  some  noble  stanza,  apparently 
for  the  joy  of  the  rolling  numbers.  The  fact  was,  he 
was  full  of  happiness  at  his  grandson's  return,  but  he 
had  had  so  little  experience  in  happiness  that  he  did 
not  know  how  to  express  it.  He  asked  a  good  many 
questions,  and  received  apathetic  answers. 

"Have  you  got  any  notes  of  the  drama?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Doggone  your  picter! — 

"'Then  sing,  ye  birds,  sing,  sing  a  joyous  song, 
And  let  the  young  lambs  bound 
As  to  the  tabor's  sound  I* 

So  you  made  up  your  mind  to  come  home?" 
"I  had  to  come  back,"  Sam  said. 
There  was  a  pause.     Benjamin  Wright  was  remind- 
225 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

ing  himself  that  in  handling  a  boy,  one  must  be  careful 
not  to  say  the  wrong  thing;  one  must  express  one's  self 
with  reserve  and  delicacy ;  one  must  weigh  one's  words 
— boys  were  such  jackasses. 

"Well;"  he  said,  "got  over  your  fool  falling  in  love 
with  a  female  old  enough  to  be  your  mother?" 

Sam  looked  at  him. 

"I  hope  your  trip  has  put  sense  into  you  on  that 
subject,  anyhow?" 

"I  love  Mrs.  Richie  as  much  as  I  ever  did,  if  that's 
what  you  mean,  sir,"  Sam  said  listlessly. 

Upon  which  his  grandfather  flew  into  instant  rage. 
"As  much  in  love  as  ever!  Gad-a-mercy!  Well;  I 
give  you  up,  sir,  I  give  you  up.  I  spend  my  money 
to  get  you  out  of  this  place,  away  from  this  female,  old 
enough  to  be  your  grandmother,  and  you  come  back 
and  say  you  are  as  much  in  love  with  her  as  ever.  I 
swear,  I  don't  believe  you  have  a  drop  of  my  blood 
in  you!"  He  flung  his  cigar  away,  and  plunged  his 
hand  down  into  the  ginger-jar  on  the  bench  beside  him; 
"A  little  boy  like  you,  just  in  breeches!  Why,  your 
mother  ought  to  put  you  over  her  knee,  and — "  he 
stopped.  "You  have  no  sense,  Sam,"  he  added  with 
startling  mildness. 

But  Sam's  face  was  as  red  as  his  grandfather's. 
"She  is  only  ten  years  older  than  I.  That  is  nothing. 
Nothing  at  all.  If  she  will  overlook  my  comparative 
youth  and  marry  me,  I — " 

"Damnation!"  his  grandfather  screamed.  "She 
overlook?  She?" 

"I  am  younger,"  the  boy  said;  "but  love  isn't  a 
matter  of  age.  It's  a  matter  of  the  soul." 

"A  matter  of  the  soul!"  said  Benjamin  Wright; 
matter  of — of  a  sugar-tit  for  a  toothless  baby!     Whic 

226 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

is  just  about  what  you  are.  That  female,  I  tell  you 
could  have  dandled  you  on  her  knee  ten  years  ago." 

Sam  got  up ;  he  was  trembling  all  over. 

"You  needn't  insult  me,"  he  said. 

Instantly  his  grandfather  was  calm.  He  stopped 
chewing  orange-skin,  and  looked  hard  at  his  ridgy 
finger-nails. 

"I  shall  ask  her  again,"  Sam  said.  "I  said  I 
wouldn't,  but  I  will.  I  must.  That  was  why  I  came 
back.  And  as  for  my  age,  that's  her  business  and 
mine." 

"You've  drunk  too  much,"  said  his  grandfather. 
"Sit  down.  I've  something  to  say  to  you.  You  can't 
marry  that  woman.  Do  you  understand  me?" 

"You  mean  she  doesn't  care  for  me?"  Sam  laughed 
noisily.  "I'll  make  her.  Old — young — what  does  it 
matter?  She  must!"  He  flung  up  his  arms,  and  then 
sank  down  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"Sammy,"  said  the  old  man,  and  stopped.  "Sam, 
it  can't  be.  Don't  you  understand  me  ?  She  isn't  fit 
to  marry." 

The  young  man  gaped  at  him,  blankly. 

"  She's — bad,"  Benjamin  Wright  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"How  dare  you!"  cried  the  other,  his  frowning 
bewilderment  changing  slowly  to  fury;  "how  dare 
you?  If  she  had  a  relative  here  to  protect  her,  you 
would  never  dare!  If  her  brother  was  here,  he  would 
shoot  you;  but  she  has  me,  and  I — " 

"Her  brother!"  said  Benjamin  Wright;  "Sam,  my 
boy,  he  isn't  her  brother." 

"Isn't  he?"  Sam  flung  back  at  him,  "well,  what  of 
that?  I'm  glad  of  it;  I  hate  him."  He  stood  up,  his 
hands  clenched,  his  head  flung  back.  "What  differ 
ence  does  it  make  to  me  what  he  is  ?  Her  cousin,  her 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

friend — what  do  I  care?  If  she  marries  me,  what  do 
I  care  for  her  relations  ?" 

His  grandfather  looked  up  at  him  aghast;  the  young, 
insulted  innocence  of  love  blazed  in  the  boy's  face. 
"Gad-a-mercy,"  said  Mr.  Wright,  in  a  whisper,  "he 
doesn't  understand  /"  He  pulled  himself  on  to  his  shak 
ing  legs,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder. 
"  Sam,"  he  said  very  gently,  "he  is  her  lover,  my  boy." 

Sam's  lips  fell  apart;  he  gasped  heavily;  his  hands 
slowly  opened  and  shut,  and  he  swayed  from  side  to 
side;  his  wild  eyes  were  fixed  on  that  old  face,  all  soft 
ened  and  moved  and  pitying.  Then,  with  a  discordant 
shriek  of  laughter,  he  flung  out  his  open  hand  and 
struck  his  grandfather  full  in  the  face. 

"You  old  fool!  You  lie!  You  lie!  Do  you  hear 
me?" 

Benjamin  Wright,  staggering  slightly  from  the  blow, 
tried  to  speak,  but  the  boy,  still  laughing  shrilly, 
leaped  down  the  porch  steps,  and  out  into  the  dark 
ness. 

"I'll  ask  her!"  he  screamed  back;  "  you  liar!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HELENA  had  gone  up-stairs  to  put  David  to  bed. 
There  was  some  delay  in  the  process,  because  the 
little  boy  wished  to  look  at  the  stars,  and  trace  out  the 
Dipper.  That  accomplished  however,  he  was  very 
docile,  and  willing  to  get  into  bed  by  shinning  up  the 
mast  of  a  pirate-ship — which  some  people  might  have 
called  a  bedpost.  After  he  had  fallen  asleep,  Helena 
still  sat  beside  him  in  the  darkness,  her  absent  eyes 
fixed  on  the  little  warm  body,  where,  the  sheets  kicked 
off,  he  sprawled  in  a  sort  of  spread-eagle  over  the  bed. 
It  was  very  hot,  and  she  would  have  been  more  com 
fortable  on  the  porch,  but  she  could  not  leave  the 
child.  When  she  was  with  David,  the  sense  of  aching 
apprehension  dulled  into  the  comfort  of  loving.  After 
a  while,  with  a  long  sigh  she  rose,  but  stopped  to 
draw  the  sheet  over  his  shoulders;  then  smiled  to  see 
how  quickly  he  kicked  it  off.  She  pulled  it  up  again 
as  far  as  his  knees,  and  to  this  he  resigned  himself  with 
a  despairing  grunt. 

There  was  a  lamp  burning  dimly  in  the  hall;  as  she 
passed  she  took  it  up  and  went  slowly  down-stairs. 
Away  from  David,  her  thoughts  fell  at  once  into  the 
groove  of  the  past  weeks.  Each  hour  she  had  torment 
ed  herself  by  some  new  question,  and  now  she  was  won 
dering  what  she  should  do  if,  when  Lloyd  came  to  fulfil 
his  promise,  she  should  see  a  shade,  oh,  even  the  faintest 

229 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

hint,  of  hesitation  in  his  manner.  Well;  she  would 
meet  it!  She  threw  her  head  up,  and  came  down  with 
a  quicker  step,  carrying  the  lamp  high,  like  a  torch. 
But  as  she  lifted  her  eyes,  in  that  gust  of  pride,  young 
Sam  Wright  stood  panting  in  the  doorway.  As  his 
strangled  voice  fell  on  her  ear,  she  knew  that  he  knew. 

"I  have — come — " 

Without  a  word  she  put  the  lamp  down  on  the 
table  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  looked  at  him  stand 
ing  there  with  the  darkness  of  the  night  behind  him. 
Instantly  he  was  across  the  threshold  and  at  her  side. 
He  gripped  her  wrist  and  shook  it,  his  eyes  burning 
into  hers. 

"You  will  tell  me  that  he  lied!  I  told  him  he  lied. 
I  didn't  believe  him  for  a  second.  I  told  him  I  would 
ask  you." 

"Please  let  go  of  my  arm,"  she  said,  faintly.  "I 
don't  know  what  you  are — talking  about." 

"Did  he  lie?" 

"Who?"  she  stammered. 

"My  grandfather.  He  said  your  brother  was  not 
your  brother.  He  said  he  was  your  lover.  My  God! 
Your  lover!  Did  he  lie?"  He  shook  her  arm,  worry 
ing  it  as  a  dog  might,  his  nails  cutting  into  her  flesh; 
he  snarled  his  question  out  between  shut  teeth.  His 
fury  swept  words  from  her  lips. 

She  stepped  back  with  a  spring  of  terror,  trying  to 
pull  her  wrist  from  his  grasp;  but  he  followed  her, 
his  dreadful  young  face  close  to  hers.  She  put  her 
other  hand  behind  her,  and  clutched  at  the  banister- 
rail  of  the  stairs.  She  stared  at  him  in  a  trance  of 
fright.  There  was  a  long  minute  of  silence. 

Then  Sam  said  slowly,  as  though  he  were  reading 
it  word  by  word,  aloud,  from  the  open  page  of  her 

230 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

face,  ''He — did — not — lie."  He  dropped  her  wrist; 
flung  it  from  him,  even,  and  stood  motionless.  Again 
neither  of  them  spoke.  Then  Sam  drew  a  long 
breath.  "So,  this  is  life,"  he  said,  in  a  curiously 
meditative  way.  "Well;  I  have  had  enough  of  it." 
He  turned  as  he  spoke,  and  went  quietly  out  into  the 
night. 

Helena  Richie  sat  down  on  the  lowest  step  of  the 
stairs.  She  breathed  in  gasps.  Suddenly  she  looked 
at  her  arm  on  which  were  four  deep  red  marks ;  in  two 
places  the  skin  was  broken.  Upon  the  fierce  pangs 
of  her  mind,  flayed  and  stabbed  by  the  boy's  words, 
this  physical  pain  of  which  she  had  just  become  con 
scious,  was  like  some  soothing  lotion.  She  stroked  her 
wrist  tenderly,  jealous  of  the  lessening  smart.  She 
knew  vaguely  that  she  was  really  wincing  lest  the 
smart  should  cease  and  the  other  agony  begin.  She 
looked  with  blind  eyes  at  the  lamp,  then  got  up  and 
turned  the  wick  down;  it  had  been  smoking  slightly 
and  a  half -moon  of  black  had  settled  on  the  chimney. 
"Sarah  doesn't  half  look  after  the  lamps,"  she  said 
aloud,  fretfully — and  drew  in  her  lips ;  the  nail-marks 
stung.  But  the  red  was  dying  out  of  them.  Yes; 
the  other  pain  was  coming  back.  She  paled  with 
fright  of  that  pain  which  was  coming;  coming;  had 
come.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  .  .  . 

"Who,"  demanded  a  sleepy  voice,  "was  scolding?" 

Helena  looked  around  quickly;  David,  in  his  little 
cotton  night-drawers,  was  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs. 

"Who  scolded?  I  heard  'em,"  he  said,  beginning 
to  come  down,  one  little  bare  foot  at  a  time;  his  eyes 
blinked  drowsily  at  the  lamp.  Helena  caught  him  in 
her  arms,  and  sank  down  again  on  the  step.  But  he 

231 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

struggled  up  out  of  her  lap,  and  stood  before  her. 
"It's  too  hot,"  he  said;  "I  heard  'em.  And  I  came 
down.  Was  anybody  scolding  you?" 

"Yes,  David,"  she  said  in  a  smothered  voice. 

"Were  you  bad?"  Da,vid  asked  with  interest. 

Helena  dropped  her  forehead  on  to  his  little  warm 
shoulder.  She  could  feel  his  heart  beating,  and  his 
breath  on  her  neck. 

"Your  head's  pretty  heavy,"  said  David  patiently; 
"and  hot." 

At  that  she  lifted  herself  up,  and  tried  to  smile; 
"Come,  dear  precious;  come  up-stairs.  Never  mind 
if  people  scold  me.  I — deserve  it." 

"Do  you?"  said  David.     "Why?" 

He  was  wide  awake  by  this  time,  and  pleaded  against 
bed.  "Tell  me  why,  on  the  porch;  I  don't  mind  sit 
ting  on  your  lap  out  there,"  he  bribed  her;  "though 
you  are  pretty  hot  to  sit  on,"  he  added,  truthfully. 

She  could  not  resist  him;  to  have  him  on  her  knee, 
his  tousled  head  on  her  breast,  was  an  inexpressible 
comfort. 

"When  I  go  travelling  with  Dr.  Lavendar,"  David 
announced  drowsily,  "I  am  going  to  put  my  trousers 
into  the  tops  of  my  boots,  like  George  does.  Does  God 
drink  out  of  that  Dipper?" 

Her  doubtful  murmur  seemed  to  satisfy  him;  he 
shut  his  eyes,  nuzzling  his  head  into  her  breast,  and 
as  she  leaned  her  cheek  on  his  hair — which  he  per 
mitted  because  he  was  too  sleepy  to  protest — the  ache 
of  sobs  lessened  in  her  throat.  After  a  while,  when 
he  was  sound  asleep  again,  she  carried  him  up-stairs 
and  laid  him  in  his  bed,  sitting  beside  him  for  a  while 
lest  he  should  awake.  Then  she  went  down  to  the 
porch  and  faced  the  situation.  .  .  . 

232 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Sometimes  she  got  up  and  walked  about ;  sometimes 
sat  down,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  forehead  in  her 
hands,  one  foot  tapping,  tapping,  tapping.  Her  first 
idea  was  flight :  she  must  not  wait  for  Lloyd ;  she  must 
take  David  and  go  at  once.  By  to-morrow,  every 
body  would  know.  She  would  write  Lloyd  that  she 
would  await  him  in  Philadelphia.  "I  will  go  to  a 
hotel"  she  told  herself.  Of  course,  it  was  possible 
that  Sam  would  keep  his  knowledge  to  himself,  as  his 
grandfather  had  done,  but  it  was  not  probable.  And 
even  if  he  did,  his  knowledge  made  the  place  abso 
lutely  unendurable  to  her;  she  could  not  bear  it  for 
a  day — for  an  hour!  Yes;  she  must  get  off  by  to 
morrow  night;  and — 

Suddenly,  into  the  midst  of  this  horrible  personal 
alarm,  came,  like  an  echo,  Sam's  last  words.  The 
memory  of  them  was  so  clear  that  it  was  almost  as  if 
he  uttered  them  aloud  at  her  side:  "Well;  I  have  had 
enough  of  it."  Enough  of  what?  Of  loving  her? 
Ah,  yes;  he  was  cured  now  of  all  that.  But  was  that 
what  he  meant?  "So  this  is  life.  ...  I  have  had 
enough  of  it." 

Helena  Richie  leaped  to  her  feet.  It  seemed  to  her 
as  if  all  her  blood  was  flowing  slowly  back  to  her 
heart.  There  was  no  pain  now  in  those  nail-marks; 
there  was  no  pain  in  her  crushed  humiliation.  "/ 
have  had  enough  of  it"  .  .  . 

Good  God!  She  caught  her  skirts  up  in  her  hand 
and  flew  down  the  steps  and  out  into  the  garden.  At 
the  gate,  under  the  lacey  roof  of  locust  leaves,  she 
stood  motionless,  straining  her  ears.  All  was  still. 
How  long  ago  was  it  that  he  had  rushed  away  ?  More 
than  an  hour.  Oh,  no,  no ;  he  could  not  have  meant — ! 
But  all  the  same,  she  must  find  him:  "7  have  had  enough 

233 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

of  it."  Under  her  breath  she  called  his  name.  Silence. 
She  told  herself  distractedly  that  she  was  a  fool ;  but 
a  moment  later  she  fled  down  the  hill.  She  must  find 
Dr.  King;  he  would  know  what  to  do. 

She  was  panting  when  she  reached  his  gate,  and 
after  she  had  rung  and  was  beating  upon  the  door 
with  the  palm  of  her  hand,  she  had  to  cling  to  the 
knob  for  support. 

"Oh  come;  oh,  hurry!  Hurry!"  she  said,  listening 
to  Mrs.  King's  deliberate  step  on  the  oilcloth  of  the 
hall. 

"Where  is  Dr.  King?"  she  gasped,  as  the  door 
opened;  "I  want  Dr.  King!" 

Martha,  in  her  astonishment  at  this  white-faced 
creature  with  skirts  draggled  by  the  dew  and  dust  of 
the  grass-fringed  road,  started  back,  the  flame  of  the 
lamp  she  carried  flickering  and  jumping  in  the  draught. 
"What  is  the  matter?  Is  David—" 

"Oh,  where  is  Dr.  King?  Please — please!  I  want 
Dr.  King—" 

William  by  this  time  was  in  the  hall,  and  when  he 
saw  her  face  he,  too,  said: 

"David?" 

"No.  It's —  May  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?  In 
the  office?  I  am  alarmed  about — something." 

She  brushed  past  Mrs.  King,  who  was  still  gaping 
at  the  suddenness  of  this  apparition  from  the  night, 
and  followed  the  doctor  into  the  little  room  on  the 
left  of  the  passage.  Martha,  deeply  affronted,  saw  the 
door  shut  in  her  face. 

As  for  Mrs.  Richie,  she  stood  panting  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  office : 

"  I  am  very  much  frightened.  Sam  Wright  has  just 
left  me,  and — " 

234 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

William  King,  scratching  a  match  under  the  table 
and  fumbling  with  the  lamp  chimney,  laughed.  "Is 
that  all?  I  thought  somebody  had  hung  himself." 

"Oh,  Dr.  King,"  she  cried,  "I'm  afraid,  I'm  afraid!" 

He  put  out  his  friendly  hand  and  led  her  to  a  chair. 
"Now,  Mrs.  Richie,"  he  said  in  his  comforting  voice, 
"sit  down  here,  and  get  your  breath.  There's  nothing 
the  matter  with  that  scalawag,  I  assure  you.  Has  he 
been  making  himself  a  nuisance?  I'll  kick  him!" 

At  these  commonplace  words,  the  tension  broke  in 
a  rush  of  hysterical  tears,  which,  while  it  relieved  her, 
maddened  her  because  for  a  moment  she  was  unable 
to  speak.  But  she  managed  to  say,  brokenly,  that 
the  boy  had  said  something  which  frightened  her,  for 
fear  that  he  might — 

"Kill  himself?"  said  the  doctor,  cheerfully.  "No 
indeed!  The  people  who  threaten  to  kill  themselves, 
never  do.  Come,  now,  forget  all  about  him."  And 
William,  smiling,  drew  one  of  her  hands  down  from 
her  eyes.  "Gracious!  what  a  wrist!  Did  David 
scratch  you  ?" 

She  pulled  her  hand  away,  and  hid  it  in  the  folds  of 
her  skirt.  "Oh,  I  do  hope  you  are  right;  but  Dr. 
King,  he  said  something — and  I  was  so  frightened. 
Oh,  if  I  could  just  know  he  had  got  home,  all  safe!" 

"Well,  it's  easy  to  know  that,"  said  William. 
"Come,  let  us  walk  down  to  Mr.  Wright's;  I  bet  a  hat 
we'll  find  the  young  gentleman  eating  a  late  supper 
with  an  excellent  appetite.  Love  doesn't  kill,  Mrs. 
Richie— at  Sam's  age." 

She  was  silent. 

William  took  his  lantern  out  of  a  closet,  and  made  a 
somewhat  elaborate  matter  of  lighting  it,  wiping  off 
the  oozing  oil  from  the  tank,  and  then  shutting  the 
**  235 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

frame  with  a  cheerful  snap.     It  would  give  her  time 
to  get  hold  of  herself,  he  thought. 

"I  must  apologize  to  Mrs.  King,"  Helena  said.  "I 
was  so  frightened,  that  I'm  afraid  I  was  abrupt." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Martha's  husband,  easily, 
and  opened  the  outer  door  of  the  office.  "Come." 

She  followed  him  down  the  garden  path  to  the 
street;  there  in  the  darkness,  broken  by  the  gay  zigzag 
of  the  lantern  across  the  flagstones  of  the  sidewalk, 
William  found  it  easier  to  speak  out: 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  referring  to  Sam's  being 
in  love,  Mrs.  Richie?  Of  course,  we  have  all  known 
that  he  had  lost  his  heart.  Boys  will,  you  know. 
And,  honestly,  I  think  if  ever  a  boy  had  excuse  for — 
that  sort  of  thing,  Sam  had.  But  it  has  distressed  me 
to  have  you  bothered.  And  to-night  is  the  climax. 
For  him  to  talk  like  a— a  jack-donkey,  because  you  very 
properly  snubbed  him — you  mustn't  mind  my  speak 
ing  plainly;  I  have  understood  the  whole  thing  from 
the  beginning— makes  me  mad.  You're  really  worn 
out.  Confound  that  boy!  You  are  too  good,  Mrs. 
Richie,  that's  the  trouble.  You  let  yourself  be  im 
posed  upon." 

Her  broken  "  no — no  "  seemed  to  him  a  lovely  humil 
ity,  and  he  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"Yes,  yes!  When  I  see  how  gentle  women  are  with 
us  clods  of  men,  I  really,  I — you  know — "  William 
had  never  since  his  courting  days  got  into  such  a  bog 
of  sentiment,  and  he  stammered  his  way  out  of  it  by 
saying  that  Sam  was  a  perfect  nuisance. 

When  they  reached  the  gateway  of  the  senior  war 
den's  place,  Mrs.  Richie  said  that  she  would  wait. 
"I'll  stand  here  in  the  road ;  and  if  you  will  make  some 
excuse,  and  find  out — " 

236 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "I'll  come  back  as  quickly 
as  I  can,  and  tell  you  he's  all  right.  There  isn't  a 
particle  of  reason  for  anxiety,  but  it's  a  better  sedative 
for  you  than  bromide.  That's  the  why  I'm  doing  it," 
said  William  candidly.  He  gave  her  the  lantern,  and 
said  he  did  not  like  to  leave  her.  "You  won't  be 
frightened?  You  can  see  the  house  from  here,  and 
can  call  if  you  want  me.  I'll  have  to  stay  about  ten 
minutes,  or  they  wouldn't  understand  my  coming  in." 

She  nodded,  impatient  at  his  delay,  and  he  slipped 
into  the  shadow  of  the  maples  and  disappeared.  For 
a  minute  she  could  hear  the  crunch  of  his  footsteps  on 
the  gravel  of  the  driveway.  She  sat  down  on  the 
grass  by  the  roadside,  and  leaned  her  head  against  the 
big  white  gate-post.  The  lantern  burned  steadily  be 
side  her,  casting  on  the  ground  a  shower  of  yellow  spots 
that  blurred  into  a  widening  circle  of  light.  Except 
for  the  crickets  all  was  still.  The  cooler  air  of  night 
brought  out  the  heavy  scents  of  damp  earth  and  leaves, 
and  over  in  the  deep  grass  a  late  May-apple  spilled  from 
its  ivory  cup  the  heavy  odor  of  death.  A  bob-white 
fluted  in  the  darkness  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 

Her  acute  apprehension  had  ceased.  William  King 
was  so  certain,  that,  had  the  reality  been  less  dreadful 
she  would  have  been  ashamed  of  the  fuss  she  had  made. 
She  wanted  only  this  final  assurance  that  the  boy  was 
at  home,  safe  and  sound;  then  she  would  think  of  her 
own  affairs.  She  watched  the  moths  fly  about  the 
lantern,  and  when  one  poor  downy  pair  of  wings  touched 
the  hot,  domed  top  and  fell  fluttering  into  the  road,  she 
bent  forward  and  looked  at  it,  wondering  what  she 
could  do  for  it.  To  kill  it  would  be  the  kindest  thing, 
— to  put  it  out  of  its  pain.  But  some  obscure  connec 
tion  of  ideas  made  her  shudder  back  from  death,  even 

237 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

a  moth's  death;    she  lifted  the  little  creature  gently, 
and  laid  it  in  the  dewy  grass. 

Down  the  Wright's  carriage  road  she  heard  a  foot 
step  on  the  gravel ;  a  step  that  grew  louder  and  louder, 
the  confident,  comforting  step  of  the  kind  friend  on 
whom  she  relied  as  she  had  never -relied  on  any  human 
being. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  William  called  to  her,  as  he 
loomed  out  of  the  darkness  into  the  circle  of  light  from 
the  lantern. 

"He  is  all  right?"  she  said  trembling;  "you  saw 
him?" 

"I  didn't  see  him,  but — " 

"Oh,"  she  said  blankly. 

"I  saw  those  who  had,  ten  minutes  before;  won't 
that  do  ?"  he  teased  her.  "  I  found  the  Wright  family 
just  going  to  bed — where  you  ought  to  be  this  minute. 
I  said  I  had  just  stopped  in  to  say  how-do-you-do. 
Samuel  at  once  reproved  me,  because  I  hadn't  been 
to  evening  church." 

' '  And  he— Sam  ?     Was  he—" 

"He  was  in  the  house,  up-stairs,  his  mother  said. 
I  asked  about  him  sort  of  casually,  and  she  said  he  had 
just  come  in  and  gone  up  to  his  room.  His  father  made 
some  uncomplimentary  remarks  about  him.  Samuel 
oughtn't  to  be  so  hard  on  him,"  William  said  thought- 
full)^;  "he  said  he  had  told  Sam  that  he  supposed  he 
might  look  forward  to  supporting  him  for  the  rest  of 
his  life — '  as  if  he  were  a  criminal  or  an  idiot.'  Imagine 
a  father  saying  a  thing  like  that!"  William  lifted  his 
lantern  and  turned  the  wick  up.  "  Now,  I'm  only  hare 
on  him  when  he  is  a  goose;  but  his  father —  Wh( 
was  that  f" 

William  King  stood  bolt  upright,  motionless,  hi* 
238 


HE    FOUND    HER   HUDDLED    AGAINST    THE    GATE-POST,    WAITING 
FOR    HIM" 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

lips  parted.  Mrs.  Richie  caught  at  his  arm,  and  the 
lantern  swinging  sharply,  scattered  a  flying  shower  of 
light;  they  were  both  rigid,  straining  their  ears,  not 
breathing.  There  was  no  sound  except  the  vague 
movement  of  the  leaves  overhead,  and  faintly,  from 
across  the  meadow — ''Bob-white !  bob-white /" 

"  I  thought — I  heard—  "  the  doctor  said  in  a  whisper. 
Helena,  clutching  at  his  arm,  reeled  heavily  against 
him. 

"Yes.     It  was.     That  was  what  it  was." 

"  No !  Impossible !"  he  stammered.  And  they  stood 
listening  breathlessly;  then,  just  as  the  strain  began  to 
relax,  down  through  the  darkness  from  the  house  be 
hind  the  trees  came  a  cry: 

"Dr.  King—" 

An  instant  later  the  sound  of  flying  steps  on  the 
gravel,  and  a  girl's  shrill  voice:  "Dr.  King!" 

"Here,  Lydia!"  William  said,  running  towards  the 
little  figure;  "what's  the  matter!" 

Helena,  in  the  shadow  of  the  gate-post,  only  caught 
a  word: 

"Sam—" 

And  the  doctor  and  the  child  were  swallowed  up  in 
the  night. 

When  William  King  came  out  of  that  house  of  con 
fusion  and  death,  he  found  her  huddled  against  the 
gate-post,  haggard,  drenched  with  dew,  waiting  for 
him.  He  started,  with  a  distressed  word,  and  lifted  her 
in  his  arms.  "  Oh,  you  ought  not  to  be  here;  I  thought 
you  had  gone  home  long  ago!" 

"Dead?" 

"Yes." 

"He— shot—  ?" 

239 


THE  AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Yes.  Poor  boy;  poor,  foolish,  crazy  boy  I  But  it 
wasn't  your  fault.  Oh,  my  poor  child!" 

She  shivered  away  from  him,  then  without  a  word 
turned  towards  Old  Chester.  The  doctor  walked  at 
her  side.  It  was  nearly  three,  and  very  dark.  No  one 
saw  them  as  they  went  through  the  sleeping  streets ;  at 
William's  house,  she  stopped,  with  a  silent  gesture  of 
dismissal. 

"I  am  going  to  take  you  home,"  he  said  gently. 
And  a  few  minutes  later  he  began  to  tell  her  about  it. 
"He  was  dead  when  I  got  there.  They  think  it  was 
an  accident;  and  it  is  best  they  should.  I  am  afraid 
I'll  have  to  explain  to  my  wife,  because  she  saw  your 
apprehension.  But  nobody  else  need  know.  Except 
— I  must  tell  Dr.  Lavendar,  of  course;  but  not  until 
after  the  funeral.  There  is  no  use  complicating  things. 
But  other  people  can  just  think  it  was  an  accident. 
It  was,  in  one  way.  He  was  insane.  Everybody  is, 
who  does — that.  Poor  Samuel!  Poor  Mrs.  Wright! 
I  could  not  leave  them;  but  I  thought  you  had  gone 
home,  or  I  would  have  come,  Mrs.  Richie,  promise  me 
one  thing:  promise  me  not  to  feel  it  was  your  fault." 

She  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands.  "  Not  my  fault! 
.  I  killed  him." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

"TIE  was  cleaning  his  father's  pistol,  and  it  went 
Jf"l  off — "  the  poor,  dazed  mother  said,  over  and 
over.  The  father  said  nothing.  He  sat,  his  elbow 
on  his  knee,  his  forehead  resting  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand.  Sometimes  his  heavy  eyes  glanced  up,  but 
he  did  not  lift  his  head.  He  had  hardly  spoken  since 
the  accident.  Then,  he  had  said  to  William  King: 

"  I  suppose  he  undertook  to  clean  my  revolver.  He 
always  did  things  at  queer  times.  I  suppose  it  went 
off.  It  had  a  tricky  hammer.  It  went  off.  By  ac 
cident — not  .  .  .  He  hadn't  any  reason  to  ...  He  said, 
only  yesterday,  when  he  got  back,  that  he  couldn't 
stay  away  from  home  any  longer.  He  said  he  had 
to  come  home.  So,  you  see,  there  isn't  any  reason 
to  think  .  .  .  He  was  cleaning  it.  And  it  went  off. 
The  hammer  was  tricky." 

The  slow,  bewildered  words  were  spoken  with  his 
eyes  fixed  blindly  on  the  floor.  At  the  sight  of  his 
dreadful  composure,  his  wife's  loud  weeping  died  into 
a  frightened  whimper.  He  did  not  repeat  the  explana 
tion.  Dr.  Lavendar  heard  it  from  Mrs.  Wright,  as  she 
knelt  beside  the  poor,  stony  father,  patting  his  hand 
and  mothering  him. 

"It  was  an  accident,  Dr.  Lavendar.  Sammy  took 
a  notion  to  clean  his  father's  pistol.  And  it  went  off. 
And  oh,  he  had  just  come  back  to  us  again.  And 

241 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

he  was  so  glad  to  get  home.  He  went  to  church  yes 
terday  morning.  I  didn't  have  to  urge  him.  He 
wanted  to  go.  I  feel  sure  he  had  begun  to  think  of 
his  Saviour,  Yes;  and  he  wanted  to  go  back  to  the 
bank,  and  write  up  his  ledgers;  he  was  so  happy  to 
be  among  us  again.  Oh,  Dr.  Lavendar,  he  said  to 
me,  'I  just  had  to  come  home,  mother,  to  you  and 
father/  And  I  kissed  him,  and  I  said,  'Yes,  my  dar 
ling;  home  is  the  best  place.'  And  he  kissed  me,  Dr. 
Lavendar.  Sammy  was  not  one  to  do  that — a  big  boy, 
you  know.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  he  wanted  to  come 
home.  And  now  the  Lord  has  taken  him.  Oh,  Sam 
uel,  try,  try  to  say:  'Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord!'" 

The  senior  warden  stared  in  silence  at  her  plump 
hand,  shaking  and  trembling  on  his  knee.  Dr,  Laven 
dar  did  not  urge  any  word  of  resignation.  He  sat 
beside  the  stricken  pair,  hearing  the  mother's  pitiful 
babble,  looking  at  the  father's  bent  gray  head,  say 
ing  what  he  could  of  Sam — his  truthfulness,  his  good 
nature,  his  kindness.  "I  remember  once  he  spent  a 
whole  afternoon  making  a  splint  for  Danny's  leg. 
And  it  was  a  good  splint,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  Alas! 
how  little  he  could  find  to  say  of  the  young  creature 
who  was  a  stranger  to  them  all! 

Dr.  Lavendar  stayed  with  them  until  noon.  He 
had  been  summoned  just  as  he  was  sitting  down  to 
breakfast,  and  he  had  gone  instantly,  leaving  Mary 
wringing  her  hands  at  the  double  distress  of  a  dreadful 
calamity  and  Dr,  Lavendar's  going  without  his  break 
fast.  When  he  saw  William  King  he  asked  no  ques 
tions,  except: 

"Who  will  tell  his  grandfather?" 

But  of  course  there  was  only  one  person  to  tell  Mr, 
242 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Benjamin  Wright,  and  Dr.  Lavendar  knew  it.  "But 
you  must  come  with  me,  William;  Benjamin  is  very 
frail." 

"Yes;5'  said  William  King;  "only  you've  got  to 
have  something  to  eat  first." 

And  that  gave  Dr.  Lavendar  the  chance  to  ask  Mrs. 
Wright  for  some  breakfast,  which  made  her  stop  cry 
ing,  poor  soul,  for  a  little  while. 

As  Goliath  pulled  them  slowly  up  the  hill,  William 
told  part  of  his  part  of  the  story.  He  had  dropped  in 
to  the  Wrights'  the  night  before  to  say  how-do-you-do. 
"  It  was  nearly  ten.  I  only  stayed  a  few  minutes ;  then 
I  went  off.  I  had  got  as  far  as  the  gate,  and  I  was — 
was  fixing  my  lantern,  and  I  thought  I  heard  a  shot. 
And  I  said — 'What's  that?'  And  I  stood  there,  sort 
of  holding  my  breath,  you  know;  I  couldn't  believe  it 
was  a  shot.  And  then  they  called.  When  I  got  to 
the  house,  it  was  all  over.  It  was  instantaneous. 
Samuel  told  me  that  Sam  had  been  fooling  with  his 
revolver,  and — " 

"Yes;"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "that's  what  Eliza  told 
me." 

Both  men  were  silent.  Then  Dr.  Lavendar  said 
"Will  it  kill  Benjamin?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  know;"  the  doctor  said, 
sighing.  "Oh,  Dr.  Lavendar,  why  does  the  Lord  hit 
the  innocent  over  the  guilty's  shoulder?  The  boy  is 
out  of  it ;  but  his  father  and  mother  and  grandfather, 
and — and  others,  they  have  got  to  bear  it." 

"Why,  Willy,  my  boy,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "that's 
where  the  comfort  of  it  is.  It  means  we're  all  one — • 
don't  you  see  ?  If  we  surfer  in  the  boy's  suffering  or 
wrong -doing,  it  is  because  we  and  he  are  one  in  Christ 
Jesus." 

243 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  William  respectfully.  But  he  did 
not  understand. 

When  they  reached  The  Top,  it  seemed  to  take  them 
a  long  time  to  hitch  Goliath.  It  was  Dr.  Lavendar  who 
got  himself  together  first  and  said  calmly,  "Come, 
William." 

The  front  door  was  open,  and  the  two  bearers  of 
heavy  news  entered  unannounced.  Benjamin  Wright 
was  in  the  dining-room,  where  the  shutters  were  bowed 
to  keep  out  the  heat.  He  had  taken  off  his  hat,  and 
was  pottering  about  among  his  canaries,  scolding  Sim 
mons  and  swearing  at  the  weather.  Dr.  Lavendar  and 
William,  coming  from  the  white  glare  of  sunshine,  could 
hardly  distinguish  him  as  he  shuffled  back  and  forth 
among  the  shadows,  except  when  he  crossed  the  strip 
of  dazzling  green  light  between  the  bowed  shutters, 
Dr.  Lavendar  stopped  on  the  threshold ;  William  stood 
a  little  behind  him. 

Mr.  Wright  was  declaiming  sonorously: 

" — Did  you  ever  see  the  Devil, 
With  his  wooden  leg  and  shovel, 
A-scratching  up  the  gravel—" 

He  paused  to  stick  a  cuttlefish  between  the  bars  of  a 
cage,  and  catching  sight  of  the  first  figure,  instantly 
began  to  snarl  a  reproach: 

"I  might  have  been  in  my  grave  for  all  you  know, 
Edward  Lavendar;  except  you'd  have  had  to  'give 
hearty  thanks  for  the  good  example*  of  the  deceased. 
What  a  humbug  the  burial  service  is — hey?  Same 
thing  for  an  innocent  like  me,  or  for  a  senior  warden. 
Come  in.  Simmons!  Whiskey" — 

He  stopped  short;  William  had  moved  in  the 
shadows.  "Why,  that's  Willy  King,"  he  said;  and 

244 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

dropped  the  cuttlefish.  "Something's  wrong.  Two 
black  coats  at  this  hour  of  the  day  mean  something. 
Well!  Out  with  it!  What's  happened  ?" 

"Benjamin,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  coming  into  the 
room,  "Sam's  Sam — " 

"Keep  Willy  King  out!"  commanded  the  very  old 
man  in  a  high,  peevish  voice.  "I'm  not  going  to  die 
of  it.  He's— killed  himself  ?  Well;  it's  my  fault.  I 
angered  him."  He  took  up  his  hat,  clutching  the  brim 
with  shaking  hands  and  pulling  it  fiercely  down  over 
his  eyes.  "Keep  Willy  off!  I'm  not— I'm  not — " 

Simmons  caught  him  as  he  lurched  back  into  a  chair, 
and  Dr.  Lavendar  bent  over  him,  his  old  face  moving 
with  tears. 

"It  was  an  accident,  Benjamin,  either  of  the  body 
or  the  soul — it  doesn't  matter  which." 

William  King,  standing  behind  the  chair  that  held 
the  forlorn  and  quivering  heap,  ventured  gently: 
"Samuel  says  that  Sam  was  cleaning  his  pistol,  and — " 

But  Dr.  Lavendar  held  up  his  hand  and  William  was 
silent. 

"Hold  your  tongue;"  said  Benjamin  Wright. 
"Lavendar  knows  I  don't  like  lies.  Yes;  my  fault. 
I've  done  it  again.  Second  time.  Second  time. 
Simmons!  Get  these — gentlemen  some — whiskey." 

Simmons,  his  yellow  jaws  mumbling  with  terror, 
looked  at  Dr.  Lavendar,  who  nodded.  But  even  as 
the  old  man  got  himself  together,  the  brain  flagged; 
William  saw  the  twist  come  across  the  mouth,  and  the 
eyes  blink  and  fix. 

It  was  not  a  very  severe  shock,  and  after  the  first 
moments  of  alarm,  the  doctor  said  quietly: 

"He  is  not  dying." 

But  he  was,  of  course,  perfectly  helpless  and  silenced; 

245 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   fclCHIE 

his  miserable  eyes  seemed  to  watch  them,  fixedly,  as 
they  carried  him  to  his  bed,  and  did  what  little  could 
be  done;  but  he  could  make  no  demand,  and  offer  no 
explanation. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  William 
King  had  time  to  go  to  the  Stuffed  Animal  House. 
He  had  had  a  gravely  absorbing  day;  not  only  because 
of  the  Wrights'  pitiful  demands  upon  his  time,  but  be 
cause  of  the  necessary  explanations  and  evasions  to 
Old  Chester.  To  his  wife  evasions  were  impossible ;  he 
gave  her  an  exact  statement  of  the  facts  as  he  knew 
them.  Martha,  listening,  and  wiping  her  eyes,  was 
shocked  into  fairness  and  sympathy. 

"But,  William,  she  was  not  to  blame!" 

"That's  what  I  told  her." 

"Poor  thing!"  said  Martha;  "why,  I  feel  as  if  I 
ought  to  go  right  up  and  comfort  her." 

"No,  no;  it  isn't  necessary,"  William  said,  "I'll 
go,  on  my  way  to  The  Top." 

Mrs.  King  drew  back,  coldly,  and  sympathy  wavered 
into  common  sense.  "Well,  perhaps  it's  just  as  well 
you  should.  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  make  her  feel  that 
she  had  no  responsibility  at  all,— as  you  seem  to  think. 
That's  one  thing  about  me,  I  may  not  be  perfect,  but 
I  am  sincere ;  I  think  she  ought  to  have  stopped  Sam's 
love-making  months  ago !  —  Unless  perhaps  she  re 
turned  it?"  Martha  ended,  in  a  tone  that  made  Will 
iam  redden  with  silent  anger.  But  he  forgot  his  anger 
and  everything  else  when  he  came  into  the  long  par 
lor  at  the  Stuffed  Animal  House,  late  that  afternoon. 

"I've  thought  of  you  all  day,"  he  said,  taking 
Helena's  hand  and  looking  pitifully  into  her  face.  It 
was  strangely  changed.  Something  was  stamped  into 

246 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

it  that  had  never  been  there  before.  „  .  .  Weeks  ago,  a 
hurricane  of  anger  had  uprooted  content  and  vanity 
and  left  confusion  behind  it.  But  there  was  no  con 
fusion  now;  it  had  cleared  into  terror, 

William  found  her  walking  restlessly  up  and  down, 
she  gave  him  a  look,  and  then  stood  quite  still,  shrink- 
a  little  to  one  side,  as  if  she  expected  a  blow.  Some 
thing  in  that  frightened,  sidewise  attitude  made  him 
hesitate  to  tell  her  of  Benjamin  Wright;  she  hardly 
knew  the  old  gentleman,  but  it  would  startle  her,  the 
doctor  reasoned.  And  yet,  when  very  carefully,  almost 
casually,  he  said  that  Mr.  Wright  had  had  a  slight 
shock — "his  life  is  not  in  danger  just  now,"  said  Will 
iam,  "but  he  can't  speak;" — she  lifted  her  head  and 
looked  at  him,  drawing  a  full  breath,  as  if  eased  of  some 
burdening  thought. 

"Will  he  ever  speak?"  she  said. 

"I  don't  know;  I  think  so.  But  probably  it  is  the 
beginning  of  the  end;  poor  old  man!" 

"Poor  old  man/'  she  repeated  mechanically;  "poor 
old  man!" 

"I  haven't  told  Dr.  Lavendar  about — last  night," 
William  said;  "but  if  you  have  no  objection  I  would 
like  to  just  hint  at — at  a  reason.  He  would  know  how 
entirely  blameless  you  were." 

"Oh,  no!  please,  please,  don't!"  she  said.  And 
William  King  winced  at  his  own  clumsiness;  her 
reticence  made  him  feel  as  if  he  had  been  guilty  of  an 
impropriety,  almost  of  an  indelicacy. 

After  a  pause  he  said  gently,  that  he  hoped  she 
would  sit  with  Mrs.  King  and  himself  at  the  funeral  on 
Wednesday. 

Helena  caught  her  hands  together  convulsively;  "/ 
go?  Oh,  no,  no!  I  am  not  going." 

247 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

The  doctor  was  greatly  distressed.  "I  know  it  is 
hard  for  you,  but  I'm  afraid  Samuel  and  his  wife  will 
be  so  hurt  if  you  don't  come.  They  know  the  boy  was 
fond  of  you — you  were  always  so  good  to  him.  I  don't 
like  to  urge  you,  because  I  know  it  pains  you;  but — " 

"Oh,  I  can't— I  can't!" 

She  turned  so  white  that  William  had  not  the  heart 
to  say  anything  more.  But  that  same  kind  heart 
ached  so  for  the  father  and  mother,  that  he  was  grateful 
to  her  when  he  saw  her  on  Wednesday,  among  the  peo 
ple  gathering  at  the  church.  "Just  like  her  unselfish 
ness!"  he  said  to  himself. 

All  Old  Chester,  saddened  and  awed,  came  to  show 
its  sympathy  for  the  stricken  parents,  and  its  pity,  if 
nothing  more,  for  the  dead  boy.  But  Helena,  ghastly 
pale,  had  no  room  in  her  mind  for  either  pity  or  sympa 
thy.  She  heard  Mr  Dilworth's  subdued  voice  directing 
her  to  a  pew,  and  a  few  minutes  afterwards  found  ner- 
self  sitting  between  Dr.  and  Mrs.  King.  Martha  greet 
ed  her  with  an  appropriate  sigh ;  but  Mrs,  Richie  did  not 
notice  her.  There  was  no  sound  in  the  waiting  church, 
except  once  in  a  while  a  long-drawn  breath,  or  the  faint 
rustle  of  turning  leaves  as  some  one  looked  for  the 
burial  service.  The  windows  with  their  little  borders 
of  stained  glass,  were  tilted  half-way  open  this  hot 
morning,  and  sometimes  the  silence  was  stirred  by  the 
brush  of  sparrows  in  the  ivy  under  the  sills.  On  the 
worn  carpet  in  the  chancel  the  sunshine  lay  in  patches 
of  red  and  blue  and  purple,  that  flickered  noiselessly 
when  the  wind  moved  the  maple  leaves  outside;  it 
was  all  so  quiet  that  Helena  could  hear  her  own  half- 
sobbing  breaths.  After  a  while,  the  first  low  note  of 
the  organ  crept  into  the  stillness,  and  as  it  deepened 
into  a  throbbing  chord,  there  was  the  grave  rustle  of  a 

248 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

rising  congregation.     Then  from  the  church  door  came 
the  sudden  shock  of  words: 

"/  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  saith  the  Lord.' 

Helena,  clutching  at  the  back  of  the  next  pew,  stood 
up  with  the  rest.  Suddenly  she  swayed,  as  though  the 
earth  was  moving  under  her  feet  .  .  .  The  step  of  the 
bearers  came  heavily  up  the  aisle.  Her  eyes  fled  from 
what  they  carried — ("oh,  was  he  so  tall?") — and  then 
shuddered  back  again  to  stare. 

Martha  King  touched  her  arm;  "We  sit  down  now." 

Helena  sat  down.  Far  outside  her  consciousness 
words  were  being  said:  "Now  is  Christ  risen — "  but 
she  did  not  hear  them ;  she  did  not  see  the  people  about 
her.  She  only  saw,  before  the  chancel,  that  long  black 
shape.  After  a  while  the  doctor's  wife  touched  her 
again;  "Here  we  stand  up."  Mechanically,  she  rose; 
her  lips  were  moving  in  a  terrified  whisper,  and  Martha 
King,  glancing  at  her  sidewise,  looked  respectfully 
away.  "Praying,"  the  good  woman  thought;  and 
softened  a  little. 

But  Helena  was  far  from  prayer.  As  she  stared  at 
that  black  thing  before  the  chancel,  her  selfishness  un 
covered  itself  before  her  eyes  and  showed  its  nakedness. 

The  solid  ground  of  experience  was  heaving  and 
staggering  under  her  feet,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
elemental  tumult,  she  had  her  first  dim  glimpse  of 
responsibility.  It  was  a  blasting  glimpse,  that  sent 
her  cowering  back  to  assertions  of  her  right  to  her  own 
happiness.  Thirteen  years  ago  Lloyd  had  made  those 
assertions,  and  she  had  accepted  them  and  built  them 
into  a  shelter  against  the  assailing  consciousness  that 
she  was  an  outlaw,  pillaging  respect  and  honor  from 

249 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

her  community.  Until  now  nothing  had  ever  shaken 
that  shelter.  Nor  had  its  dark  walls  been  pierced  by 
the  disturbing  light  of  any  heavenly  vision  declaring 
that  when  personal  happiness  conflicts  with  any  great 
human  ideal,  the  right  to  claim  such  happiness  is  as 
nothing  compared  to  the  privilege  of  resigning  it.  She 
had  not  liked  the  secrecy  which  her  shelter  involved; 
no  refined  temperament  likes  secrecy.  But  the  break 
ing  of  the  law,  in  itself,  had  given  her  no  particular 
concern ;  behind  her  excusing  platitudes  she  had  always 
been  comfortable  enough.  Even  that  whirlwind  of 
anger  at  Benjamin  Wright's  contempt  had  only  roused 
her  to  buttress  her  shelter  with  declarations  that  she 
was  not  harming  anybody.  But  sitting  there  between 
William  King  and  his  wife,  in  the  midst  of  decorously 
mournful  Old  Chester,  she  knew  she  could  never  say 
that  any  more;  not  only  because  a  foolish  and  ill- 
balanced  youth  had  been  unable  to  survive  a  shattered 
ideal,  but  because  she  began  suddenly  and  with  conster 
nation  to  understand  that  the  whole  vast  fabric  of 
society  rested  on  that  same  ideal.  And  she  had  been 
secretly  undermining  it!  Her  breath  caught,  strang 
ling,  in  her  throat.  In  the  crack  of  the  pistol  and  the 
crash  of  ruined  family  life  she  heard  for  the  first  time 
the  dreadful  sound  of  the  argument  of  her  life  to  other 
lives;  and  at  that  sound  the  very  foundation  of  those 
excuses  of  her  right  to  happiness,  rocked  and  crumbled 
and  left  her  selfishness  naked  before  her  eyes. 

It  was  so  unbearable,  that  instantly  she  sought 
another  shelter:  obedience  to  the  letter  of  the  Law — 
Marriage.  To  marry  her  fellow  outlaw  seemed  to 
promise  both  shelter  and  stability — for  in  her  confu 
sion  she  mistook  marriage  for  morality.  At  once! 
Never  mind  if  he  were  tired  of  her ;  never  mind  if  she 

250 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

must  humble  what  she  called  her  pride,  and  plead 
with  him  to  keep  his  word;  never  mind  anything — • 
except  this  dreadful  revelation :  that  no  one  of  us  may 
do  that  which,  if  done  by  all,  would  destroy  society. 
Yes;  because  she  had  not  understood  that,  a  boy  had 
taken  his  own  life.  .  .  .  Marriage!  That  was  all  she 
thought  of;  then,  suddenly,  she  cowered — the  feet  of 
the  bearers  again. 

"I  will  be  married,"  she  said  with  dry  lips,  "oh, 
I  will — I  will!"  And  Martha  King,  looking  at  her 
furtively,  thought  she  prayed. 

It  was  not  a  prayer,  it  was  only  a  promise.  For  with 
the  organic  upheaval  into  her  soul  of  the  primal  fact  of 
social  responsibility,  had  come  the  knowledge  of  guilt. 

But  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake. 

17 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BENJAMIN  WRIGHT  lay  in  his  great  bed,  that 
had  four  mahogany  posts  like  four  dark  obelisks. 
.  .  .  He  had  not  spoken  distinctly  since  the  night  of 
his  seizure,  though  in  about  a  fortnight  he  began  to 
babble  something  which  nobody  could  understand. 
Simmons  said  he  wanted  his  birds,  and  brought  two 
cages  and  hung  them  in  the  window,  where  the  roving, 
unhappy  eyes  could  rest  upon  them.  He  mumbled 
fiercely  when  he  saw  them,  and  Simmons  cried  out 
delightedly;  "There  now,  he's  better — he's  swearin*  at 
me!"  The  first  intelligible  words  he  spoke  were  those 
that  had  last  passed  his  lips:  "M-m-my  f-f — ,"  and 
from  his  melancholy  eyes  a  meagre  tear  slid  into  a 
wrinkle  and  was  lost. 

Dr.  Lavendar,  sitting  beside  him,  put  his  old  hand 
over  the  other  old  hand,  that  lay  with  puffed  fingers 
motionless  on  the  coverlet.  "Yes,  Benjamin,  it  was 
your  fault,  and  mine,  and  Samuel's.  We  were  all  re 
sponsible  because  we  did  not  do  our  best  for  the 
boy.  But  remember,  his  Heavenly  Father  will  do  His 
best." 

"M-m-my  f — "  the  stammering  tongue  began  again, 
but  the  misery  lessened  in  the  drawn  face.  Any 
denial  of  the  fact  he  tried  to  state  would  have  mad 
dened  him.  But  Dr.  Lavendar  never  denied  facts; 
apart  from  the  question  of  right  and  wrong,  he  used 

252 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

to  say  it  was  not  worth  while.  He  accepted  old  Mr. 
Wright's  responsibility  as,  meekly,  he  had  accepted 
his  own,  but  he  saw  in  it  an  open  door. 

And  that  was  why  he  went  that  evening  to  the 
Wright  house.  It  was  a  melancholy  house.  When 
their  father  was  at  home,  the  little  girls  whispered  to 
each  other  and  slipped  away  to  their  rooms,  and 
when  they  were  alone  with  their  mother,  they  quivered 
at  the  sight  of  her  tears  that  seemed  to  flow  and  flow 
and  flow.  Her  talk  was  all  of  Sam's  goodness  and  af 
fection  and  cleverness.  "He  read  such  learned  books! 
Why,  that  very  last  afternoon,  when  we  were  all  tak 
ing  naps,  he  was  reading  a  big  leather-covered  book 
from  your  father's  library,  all  about  the  Nations. 
And  he  could  make  beautiful  poetry,"  she  would  tell 
them,  reading  over  and  over  with  tear -blinded  eyes 
some  scraps  of  verse  she  had  found  among  the  boy's 
possessions.  But  most  of  all  she  talked  of  Sam's 
gladness  in  getting  home,  and  how  strange  it  was  he 
had  taken  that  notion  to  clean  that  dreadful  pistol. 
No  wonder  Lydia  and  her  sisters  kept  to  themselves, 
and  wandered,  little  scared,  flitting  creatures,  through 
the  silent  house,  or  out  into  the  garden,  yellowing  now 
and  gorgeous  in  the  September  heats  and  chills. 

Dr.  Lavendar  came  in  at  tea-time,  as  he  had  lately 
made  a  point  of  doing,  and  sat  down  beside  Mrs. 
Wright  in  Sam's  chair. 

"Samuel,"  said  he,  when  supper  was  over  and  the 
little  girls  had  slipped  away;  "you  must  comfort  your 
father.  Nobody  else  can." 

The  senior  warden  drew  in  his  breath  with  a  start. 

"He  blames  himself,  Samuel." 

"Blames  himself!  What  reason  has  he  got  to 
blame  himself?  It  was  my  fault." 

253 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  said  the  poor  mother,  "you  couldn't 
tell  that  he  was  going  to  clean  your  pistol." 

Samuel  Wright  looked  heavily  over  at  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  minister,  "he  gave  Sam  the 
money  to  go  away.  I  suppose  that's  on  his  mind,  for 
one  thing.  He  may  think  something  went  wrong, 
you  know." 

"Oh,"  broke  in  the  mother,  beginning  to  cry,  "he 
was  so  glad  to  get  home;  he  said  to  me  the  night  he 
got  back,  'Mother,  I  just  had  to  come  home  to  you 
and  father;  I  couldn't  stay  away  any  longer.'  I'm 
sure  he  couldn't  have  said  anything  more  loving,  could 
he  ?  And  he  kissed  me.  You  know  he  wasn't  one  to 
kiss  much.  Yes ;  he  couldn't  bear  to  be  away  from  us. 
He  said  so." 

"Go  and  see  him,  Samuel,"  urged  Dr.  Lavendar. 
"You,  too,  have  lost  a  son,  so  you  know  now  how  he 
has  felt  for  thirty-two  years.  His  was  a  loss  for  which 
he  knows  he  was  to  blame.  It  is  a  cruel  knowledge, 
Sam?" 

"It  is,"  said  the  senior  warden.     "It  is." 

"Then  go  and  comfort  him." 

Samuel  went.  A  great  experience  had  wiped  the 
slate  so  clean  of  all  the  years  of  multiplications  and 
additions  of  resentment  and  mortification,  that  the 
thought  of  facing  his  father  did  not  stir  his  dull  in 
difference  to  the  whole  dreary  matter.  When  Sim 
mons  saw  him  coming  up  the  garden  path,  he  said 
under  his  breath,  "Bless  the  Lawd!"  Then,  mindful 
of  hospitality,  offered  whiskey. 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Samuel  Wright;  and  the  old 
habit  of  being  displeased  made  his  voice  as  pompous 
as  if  he  cared — one  way  or  the  other.  "Can  you 
make  him  understand  that  I'm  here,  Simmons?  Of 

254 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

course,  I  won't  go  up -stairs  unless  he  wants  to  see 
me." 

"He'll  want  to  see  you,  suh,  he'll  want  to  see  you," 
said  Simmons.  He's  right  smart  to-day.  He  kin 
use  his  left  hand.  He  dun  shuck  that  fist  at  me  this 
mawnin'.  Oh,  laws,  yes,  he'll  want  to  see  you." 

"Go  and  ask  him." 

Simmons  went,  and  came  back  triumphantly.  "I 
tole  him.  He  didn't  say  nothin'.  So  it's  all  right  " 

The  visitor  went  ponderously  up-stairs.  On  the 
first  landing  he  caught  his  breath,  and  stood  still. 

Directly  opposite  him,  across  the  window  of  the 
upper  hall  was  a  horsehair -covered  sofa,  with  great, 
shiny,  slippery  mahogany  ends.  Samuel  Wright  put 
his  hand  up  to  his  throat  as  if  he  were  smothering.  .  .  . 
He  used  to  lie  on  that  sofa  on  hot  afternoons  and 
study  his  declensions.  It  had  no  springs;  he  felt  the 
hardness  of  it  in  his  bones,  now,  and  the  scratch  of 
the  horsehair  on  his  cheek.  Instantly  words,  forgot 
ten  for  a  generation,  leaped  up: 

Stella 
Stella 
Stellas 

Stellam— 

Mechanically  his  eyes  turned  to  the  side  wall;  an 
old  secretary  stood  there,  its  glass  doors  curtained 
within  by  faded  red  rep.  He  had  kept  his  fishing- 
Cackle  in  its  old  cupboard;  the  book  of  flies  was  in  a 
green  box  on  the  second  shelf,  at  the  left.  Samuel 
looked  at  those  curtained  doors,  and  at  the  shabby 
case  of  drawers  below  them  where  the  veneer  had 
peeled  and  blistered  under  the  hot  sun  of  long  after 
noons,  and  the  sudden  surge  of  youth  into  his  dry, 

255 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA  RICHIE 

middle-aged  mind,  was  stiff ocating.  Something  not 
himself  impelled  him  on  up  the  half-flight  from  the 
landing,  each  step  creaking  under  his  heavy  tread; 
drew  him  across  the  hall,  laid  his  hand  on  the  door  of 
the  secretary.  .  .  .  Yes;  there  they  were:  the  green 
pasteboard  box,  the  flannel  book  to  hold  the  flies. 
He  put  out  his  hand  stealthily  and  lifted  the  book; — 
rust  and  moth-eaten  rags. 

The  shock  of  that  crumbling  touch  and  the  smell 
of  dust  made  him  gasp — and  instantly  he  was  back 
again  in  middle  age.  He  shut  the  secretary  quietly, 
and  looked  around  him.  On  the  right  side  of  the  hall 
was  a  closed  door.  His  door.  The  door  out  of  which 
he  had  rushed  that  windy  March  night  thirty -two 
years  ago.  How  hot  with  passion  he  had  been  then! 
How  cold  he  was  now.  On  the  other  side  of  the  hall 
a  door  was  ajar;  behind  it  was  his  father.  He  looked 
at  it  with  sombre  indifferent  eyes ;  then  pushed  it  open 
and  entered.  He  saw  a  little  figure,  sunk  in  the  heap 
of  pillows  on  the  big  bed;  a  little  shrunken  figure,  with 
out  a  wig,  frightened-eyed,  and  mumbling.  Samuel 
Wright  came  forward  with  the  confidence  of  apathy. 
As  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  dully  looking  down, 
the  thick  tongue  broke  into  a  whimpering  stammer: 

"M-m-my  f— " 

And  at  that,  something  seemed  to  melt  in  the  poor 
locked  heart  of  the  son. 

"Father!"  said  Samuel  Wright  passionately.  He 
stooped  and  took  the  helpless  fingers,  and  held  them 
hard  in  his  own  trembling  hand.  For  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak.  Then  he  said  some  vague  thing 
about  getting  stronger.  He  did  not  know  what  he 
said;  he  was  sorry,  as  one  is  sorry  for  a  suffering  child. 
The  figure  in  the  bed  looked  at  him  with  scared  eyes. 

256 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

One  of  the  pillows  slipped  a  little,  and  Samuel  pulled 
it  up,  clumsily  to  be  sure,  but  with  the  decided  touch 
of  pity  and  purpose,  the  touch  of  the  superior.  That 
fixing  the  pillow  behind  the  shaking  helpless  head, 
swept  away  the  last  traces  of  the  quarrel.  He  sat 
down  by  the  gloomy  catafalque  of  a  bed,  and  when 
Benjamin  Wright  began  to  say  again,  "M-m-my  f — " 
he  stopped  him  with  a  gesture. 

"No,  father;  not  at  all.  He  would  have  gone  away 
anyhow,  whether  you  had  given  him  the  money  or  not. 
No;  it  was  my  fault,"  the  poor  man  said,  dropping 
back  into  his  own  misery.  "  I  was  hard  on  him.  Even 
that  last  night,  I  spoke  harshly  to  him.  Sometimes  I 
think  that  possibly  I  didn't  entirely  understand  him." 

He  dropped  his  head  in  his  hand,  and  stared  blankly 
at  the  floor.  He  did  not  see  the  dim  flash  of  humor 
in  the  old  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  day  that  Sam  Wright  was  buried  Helena  had 
written  to  Lloyd  Pryor.  She  must  see  him  at 
once,  she  said.  He  must  let  her  know  when  he  would 
come  to  Old  Chester — or  she  would  come  to  him,  if 
he  preferred.  "It  is  most  important,"  she  ended, 
"most  important."  She  did  not  say  why;  she  could 
not  write  of  this  dreadful  thing  that  had  happened. 
Still  less  could  she  put  down  on  paper  that  sense  of 
guilt,  so  alarming  in  its  newness  and  so  bewildering 
in  its  complexity.  She  was  afraid  of  it,  she  was  even 
ashamed  of  it ;  she  and  Lloyd  had  never  talked  about — 
things  like  that.  So  she  made  no  explanation.  She 
only  summoned  him  with  a  peremptoriness  which  had 
been  absent  from  their  relations  for  many  years.  His 
answer,  expected  and  despaired  of,  came  three  weeks 
later. 

It  was  early  in  October  one  rainy  Friday  afternoon. 
Helena  and  David  were  in  the  dining-room.  She  had 
helped  him  with  his  lessons, — for  it  was  Dr.  Lavendar's 
rule  that  Monday's  lessons  were  to  be  learned  on  Fri 
day  ;  and  now  they  had  come  in  here  because  the  old 
mahogany  table  was  so  large  that  David  could  have 
a  fine  clutter  of  gilt-edged  saucers  from  his  paint-box 
spread  all  around.  He  had  a  dauby  tumbler  of  water 
beside  him,  and  two  or  three  Godey's  Lady's  Books 
awaiting  his  eager  brush.  He  was  very  busy  putting 

358 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

gamboge  on  the  curls  of  a  lady  whose  petticoats,  by  a 
discreet  mixture  of  gamboge  and  Prussian  blue,  were 
a  most  beautiful  green. 

"  Don't  you  think  crimson-lake  is  pretty  red  for  her 
lips?"  Helena  asked,  resting  her  cheek  on  his  thatch 
of  yellow  hair. 

"No,  ma'am,"  David  said  briefly;  and  rubbed  on 
another  brushful.  Helena  put  an  eager  arm  about 
him  and  touched  his  ear  with  her  lips;  David  sighed, 
and  moved  his  head.  "No;  I  wasn't  going  to,"  she 
reassured  him  humbly;  it  was  a  long  time  since  she 
had  dared  to  offer  the  "forty  kisses."  It  was  then 
that  Sarah  laid  the  mail  down  on  the  table;  a  news 
paper  and — Lloyd  Pryor's  letter. 

Helena's  start  and  gasp  of  astonishment  were  a 
physical  pang.  For  a  long  time  afterwards  she  could 
not  bear  the  smell  of  David's  water-colors;  gamboge, 
Chinese  white  and  Prussian  blue  made  her  feel  almost 
faint/  She  took  up  the  letter  and  turned  it  over  and 
over,  her  pallor  changing  into  a  violent  rush  of  color; 
then  she  fled  up-stairs  to  her  own  room,  tearing  the 
letter  open  as  she  ran. 

Her  eyes  blurred  as  she  began  to  read  it,  and  she 
had  to  stop  to  wipe  away  some  film  of  agitation.  But 
as  she  read,  the  lines  cleared  sharply  before  her.  The 
beginning,  after  the  "Dear  Nelly,"  was  commonplace 
enough.  He  was  sorry  not  to  have  answered  her 
letter  sooner;  he  had  been  frightfully  busy;  Alice  had 
not  been  well,  and  letter-writing,  as  she  knew,  was  not 
his  strong  point.  Besides,  he  had  really  expected  to 
be  in  Old  Chester  before  this,  so  that  they  could  have 
talked  things  over.  It  was  surprising  how  long  Fred 
erick  had  hung  on,  poor  devil.  In  regard  to  the  fut 
ure,  of  course — here  the  page  turned.  Helena  gasped, 

259 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

folding  it  back  with  trembling  fingers:  "Of  course, 
conditions  have  changed  very  much  since  we  first  con 
sidered  the  matter.  My  daughter's  age  presents  an 
embarrassment  which  did  not  exist  a  dozen  years  ago. 
Now,  if  we  carried  out  our  first  arrangement,  some 
kind  friend  would  put  two  and  two  together,  and  drop 
a  hint,  and  Alice  would  ask  questions.  Nevertheless" 
— again  she  turned  a  page — nevertheless,  Lloyd  Pryor 
was  prepared  to  carry  out  his  promise  if  she  wished  to 
hold  him  to  it.  She  might  think  it  over,  he  said,  and 
drop  him  a  line,  and  he  was,  as  ever,  hers,  L.  P. 

Helena  folded  the  letter,  laying  the  edges  straight 
with  slow  exactness.  .  .  .  He  would  carry  out  his  prom 
ise  if  she  held  him  to  it.  She  might  drop  him  a  line 
on  the  subject.  .  .  .  While  her  dazed  mind  repeated 
his  words,  she  was  alertly  planning  her  packing:  "  Can 
Sarah  fold  my  skirts  properly  ?"  she  thought;  but  even 
as  she  asked  herself  the  question,  she  was  saying  aloud, 
"Marry  him?  Never!"  She  slapped  the  letter  across 
her  knee.  Ah,  he  knew  that.  He  knew  that  her  pride 
would  come  to  his  rescue!  The  tears  stung  in  her  eyes, 
but  they  did  not  fall.  .  .  .  Sarah  must  begin  the  next 
morning ;  but  it  would  take  a  week  to  close  everything 
up.  ...  Well;  if  he  had  ceased  to  want  her,  she  did  not 
want  him!  What  a  letter  she  would  write  him;  what 
indifference,  what  assurances  that  she  did  not  wish  to 
hold  him  to  that  "first  arrangement";  what  anger, 
what  reproach!  Yes ;  she  would  "  drop  him  that  line  " ! 
Then  it  came  over  her  that  perhaps  it  would  be  more 
cutting  not  to  write  to  him  at  all.  She  raised  her  rag 
of  pride  but  almost  instantly  it  fell  shuddering  to  the 
dust — Sam  Wright.  .  .  . 

She  sat  up  in  her  chair,  trembling.  Yes;  she  and 
David  would  start  on  Monday ;  she  would  meet  Lloyd 

260 


THE  AWAKENING   OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

in  Philadelphia  on  Tuesday,  and  be  married  that  morn 
ing.  Her  trunks  could  follow  her ;  she  would  not  wait 
for  the  packing.  George  must  do  up  the  furniture  in 
burlap ;  a  railroad  journey  across  the  mountains  would 
injure  it  very  much,  unless  it  was  carefully  packed. 

She  rose  hurriedly,  and  taking  her  travelling-bag  out 
of  the  wardrobe,  began  to  put  various  small  necessities 
into  it.  Suddenly  she  stopped  short  in  her  work,  then 
went  over  to  the  mantel-piece,  and  leaning  her  arms 
upon  it  looked  into  the  mirror  that  hung  lengthwise 
above  it.  The  face  that  gazed  back  at  her  from  its 
powdery  depths  was  thinner;  it  was  paler:  it  was — 
not  so  young.  She  looked  at  it  steadily,  with  frightened 
eyes;  there  were  lines  on  the  forehead;  the  skin  was 
not  so  firm  and  fresh.  She  spared  herself  no  details  of 
the  change,  and  as  she  acknowledged  them,  one  by  one, 
the  slow,  painful  red  spread  to  her  temples.  Oh,  it  was 
horrible,  it  was  disgusting,  this  aging  of  the  flesh!  The 
face  in  the  mirror  looked  back  at  her  helplessly ;  it  was 
no  weapon  with  which  to  fight  Lloyd  Pryor's  weariness! 
Yet  she  must  fight  it,  somehow.  It  was  intolerable  to 
think  that  he  did  not  want  her;  it  was  more  intolerable 
to  think  that  she  could  not  match  his  mood  by  declar 
ing  that  she  did  not  want  him.  "But  that's  only  be 
cause  of  Sam  Wright,"  she  assured  herself,  staring  mis 
erably  at  the  white  face  in  the  glass;  "if  it  wasn't  for 
that — !  But  I  must  get  more  sleep ;  I  mustn't  let  my 
self  look  so  worn  out." 

In  such  cross-currents  of  feeling,  one  does  not  think 
consecutively.  Desires  and  motives  jumbled  together 
until  Helena  said  to  herself  desperately,  that  she  would 
not  try  to  answer  Lloyd's  letter  for  a  day  or  two. 
After  all,  as  he  had  so  clearly  indicated,  there  was  no 
hurry ;  she  would  think  it  over  a  little  longer. 

261 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

But  as  she  thought,  the  next  day  and  the  next,  the 
wound  to  her  affection  and  her  vanity  grew  more  un 
bearable,  and  her  feeling  of  responsibility  waned.  The 
sense  of  guilt  had  been  awakened  in  her  by  her  recogni 
tion  of  a  broken  Law ;  but  as  the  sense  of  sin  was  as  far 
from  her  consciousness  as  ever,  she  was  able  to  argue 
that  if  no  one  knew  she  was  guilty,  no  further  harm 
could  be  done.  So  why  kill  what  lingering  love  there 
might  be  in  Lloyd's  heart  by  insisting  that  he  keep  his 
promise  ?  With  that  worn  face  of  hers,  how  could  she 
insist!  And  suppose  she  did  not?  Suppose  she  gave 
up  that  hungry  desire  to  be  like  other  people,  arranged 
to  leave  Old  Chester — on  that  point  she  had  no  uncer 
tainty — but  did  not  make  any  demand  upon  him  ?  It 
was  perfectly  possible  that  he  would  be  shamed  into 
keeping  his  promise.  She  said  to  herself  that,  at  any 
rate,  she  would  wait  a  week  until  she  had  calmed 
down  and  could  write  with  moderation  and  good 
humor. 

Little  by  little  the  purpose  of  diplomacy  strength 
ened,  and  with  it  a  determination  to  keep  his  love — 
what  there  was  of  it — at  the  price  of  that  "  first  arrange 
ment."  For,  after  all,  the  harm  was  done ;  Sam  Wright 
was  dead.  She  was  his  murderer,  she  reminded  her 
self,  sullenly,  but  nothing  like  that  could  ever  happen 
again,  so  why  should  she  not  take  what  poor  happiness 
she  could  get  ? 

Of  course  this  acceptance  of  the  situation  veered 
every  day  in  gusts  of  misery  and  terror;  but,  on  the 
whole,  the  desire  for  peace  prevailed.  Yet  the  week 
she  had  allowed  herself  in  which  to  think  it  over, 
lengthened  to  ten  days  before  she  began  to  write  her 
letter.  She  sat  down  at  her  desk  late  in  the  after 
noon,  but  by  tea-time  she  had  done  nothing  more  than 

262 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

tear  up  half  a  dozen  beginnings.  After  supper  David 
rattled  the  backgammon-board  significantly. 

"You  are  pretty  slow,  aren't  you?"  he  asked,  as 
she  loitered  about  her  desk,  instead  of  settling  down 
to  the  usual  business  of  the  evening. 

"Don't  you  think,  just  to-night,  you  would  rather 
read  a  story?"  she  pleaded. 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  David,  cheerfully. 

So,  sighing,  she  opened  the  board  on  her  knees. 
David  beat  her  to  a  degree  that  made  him  very  con 
descending,  and  also  extremely  displeased  by  the  in 
terruption  of  a  call  from  William  King. 

"Nobody  is  sick,"  David  said  politely;  "you  needn't 
have  come." 

"Somebody  is  sick  further  up  the  hill,"  William  ex 
cused  himself,  smiling. 

"Is  Mr.  Wright  worse?"  Helena  said  quickly.  She 
lifted  the  backgammon-board  on  to  the  table,  and 
whispered  a  word  of  manners  to  David,  who  silently 
stubbed  his  copper-toed  shoe  into  the  carpet. 

"No,"  the  doctor  said,  "he's  better,  if  anything. 
He  managed  to  ask  Simmons  for  a  poached  egg,  which 
made  the  old  fellow  cry  with  joy ;  and  he  swore  at  me 
quite  distinctly  because  I  did  not  get  in  to  see  him 
this  morning.  I  really  couldn't  manage  it,  so  I  went 
up  after  tea,  and  he  was  as  mad  as — as  David,"  said 
William,  slyly.  And  David,  much  confused,  kicked 
vigorously. 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  ever  be  able  to  talk  ?"  she  said. 

William  would  not  commit  himself.  "Perhaps; 
and  perhaps  not.  I  didn't  get  anything  clear  out  of 
him  to-night,  except — a  bad  word." 

"Damn?"  David  asked  with  interest. 

William  chuckled  and  then  remembered  to  look 
263 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

proper.  But  David  feeling  that  he  was  being  laughed 
at,  hid  his  face  on  Helena's  shoulder,  which  made  her 
lift  him  on  to  her  knee.  There,  in  the  drowsy  warmth 
of  the  little  autumn  fire,  and  the  quiet  flow  of  grown 
people's  meaningless  talk,  he  began  to  get  sleepy ;  grad 
ually  his  head,  slipped  from  her  shoulder  to  her  breast, 
and  when  she  gathered  his  dangling  legs  into  her  lap, 
he  fell  sound  asleep. 

"It  isn't  his  bedtime  yet,"  she  excused  herself. 
She  rested  her  cheek  on  the  child's  head  and  looked 
over  at  the  doctor.  She  wore  a  dark  crimson  silk,  the 
bosom  filled  with  sheer  white  muslin  that  was  caught 
together  under  her  soft  chin  by  a  little  pearl  pin;  her 
lace  undersleeves  were  pushed  back  so  that  William 
could  see  the  lovely  lines  of  her  white  wrists.  Her 
parted  hair  fell  in  soft,  untidy  waves  down  over  her 
ears;  she  was  staring  absently  across  David's  head 
into  the  fire. 

"I  wish,"  William  said,  "that  you  would  go  and  call 
on  old  Mr.  Wright  some  time.  Take  David  with  you. 
It  would  cheer  him  up."  It  seemed  to  William  King, 
thinking  of  the  forlorn  old  man  in  his  big  four-poster, 
that  such  a  vision  of  maternity  and  peace  would  be 
pleasant  to  look  upon.  "  He  wouldn't  use  David's  bad 
word  to  you,  I  am  sure." 

"Wouldn't  he?"  she  said. 

For  once  the  doctor's  mind  was  nimble,  and  he  said 
in  quick  expostulation:  "Come,  come;  you  mustn't 
be  morbid.  You  are  thinking  about  poor  Sam  and 
blaming  yourself.  Why,  Mrs.  Richie,  you  are  no 
more  responsible  for  his  folly  than  I  am." 

She  shook  her  head.  "That  day  at  the  funeral,  I 
thought  how  they  used  to  bring  the  murderer  into  the 
presence  of  the  man  he  had  killed," 

264 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

William  King  was  really  displeased.  ''Now,  look 
here,  you  must  stop  this  sort  of  thing!  It's  not  only 
foolish,  but  it's  dangerous.  We  can  none  of  us  play 
with  our  consciences  without  danger;  they  cut  both 
ways." 

Mrs.  Richie  was  silent.  The  doctor  got  up  and 
planted  himself  on  the  hearth-rug,  his  back  to  the  fire, 
and  his  hands  under  his  coat  tails. 

"Let's  have  it  out:  How  could  you  help  it  because 
that  poor  boy  fell  in  love?  You  couldn't  help  being 
yourself — could  you?  And  Sam  couldn't  help  being 
sentimental.  Your  gentleness  and  goodness  were  like 
something  he  had  never  seen  before.  But  you  had 
to  stop  the  sentimentality,  of  course;  that  was  just 
your  duty.  And  I  know  how  wisely  you  did  it — and 
kindly.  But  the  boy  was  always  a  self  -  absorbed 
dreamer;  the  mental  balance  was  too  delicate;  it  dipped 
the  wrong  way;  his  mind  went.  To  feel  it  was  your 
fault  is  absolute  nonsense.  Now  there!  I've  never 
been  so  out  of  patience  with  you  before,"  he  ended 
smiling;  "but  you  deserve  it." 

"I  don't  deserve  it,"  she  said;   "I  wish  I  did." 

"When  I  spoke  about  goodness,"  the  doctor  amend 
ed,  "  I  didn't  mean  to  reflect  on  his  father  and  mother. 
Mrs.  Wright  is  one  of  the  best  women  in  the  world.  I 
only  meant — "  William  sat  down  and  looked  into  the 
fire.  "Well;  just  plain  goodness  isn't  necessarily — at 
tractive.  A  man — at  least  a  boy  like  Sam,  admires 
goodness,  of  course;  but  he  does  sort  of  hanker  after 
prettiness;"  William's  eyes  dwelt  on  her  bent  head, 
on  the  sheer  muslin  under  David's  cheek,  on  the  soft 
incapable  hands  that  always  made  him  think  of  white 
apple-blossoms,  clasped  around  the  child's  yielding 
body; — "Yes;  something  pretty,  and  pleasant,  and 

265 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

sweet;  that's  what  a  man — I  mean  a  boy,  Sam  was 
only  a  boy;  really  wants.  And  his  mother,  good  as 
she  is,  is  not, — well;  I  don't  know  how  to  express  it." 

Helena  looked  over  at  him  with  a  faint  smile.  "  1 
thought  goodness  was  the  finest  thing  in  the  world; 
I'm  sure  I  used  to  be  told  so,"  she  ended  dully. 

"Of  course,  you  would  feel  that,"  the  doctor  pro 
tested;  "and  it  is,  of  course  it  is!  Only,  I  can  under 
stand  how  a  boy  might  feel.  Down  at  the  Wrights' 
there  was  just  nothing  but  plain  goodness,  oh,  very 
plain,  Mrs.  Richie.  It  was  all  bread-and-butter.  Nec 
essary;  I'm  the  last  person  to  say  that  bread-and-but 
ter  isn't  necessary.  But  you  do  want  cake,  once  in  a 
while ;  I  mean  when  you  are  young.  Sam  couldn't  help 
liking  cake,"  he  ended  smiling. 

"Cakes  and  ale,"  Helena  said. 

But  the  connection  was  not  clear  to  William.  "At 
home,  there  was  just  plain,  ugly  goodness;  then  he  met 
you.  And  he  saw  goodness,  and  other  things!" 

Helena's  fingers  opened  and  closed  nervously.  "I 
wish  you  wouldn't  call  me  good,"  she  said;  "I'm  not. 
Truly  I'm  not." 

William  laughed,  looking  at  her  with  delighted  eyes. 
"  Oh,  no ;  you  are  a  terrible  sinner!" 

At  which  she  said  with  sudden,  half -sobbing  violence, 
"Oh,  don't;  I  can't  bear  it.  I  am  not  good." 

The  doctor  sobered.  This  really  was  too  near  the 
abnormal  to  be  safe;  he  must  bring  her  out  of  it.  He 
must  make  her  realize,  not  only  that  she  was  not  to 
blame  about  Sam  Wright,  but  that  the  only  shadow 
on  her  goodness  was  this  same  morbid  feeling  that  she 
was  not  good.  He  got  up  again  and  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  looking  down  at  her  with  good-natured 
determination. 

266 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Now  lock  here!"  he  said,  "conscience  is  a  good 
thing;  but  conscience,  unrestrained  by  common  sense, 
does  a  fine  work  for  the  devil.  That  isn't  original,  Dr. 
Lavendar  said  it ;  but  it's  true.  I  wish  Dr.  Lavendar 
knew  of  this  morbid  idea  of  yours  about  responsibility 
— he'd  shake  it  out  of  you!  Won't  you  let  me  tell 
him?" 

"Oh,  no!  no!     Please  don't!" 

"Well,  I  won't;  but  he  would  tell  you  that  it  was 
wrong  not  to  see  straight  in  this  matter;  it's  unfair  to 
your — to  Providence,"  William  said.  He  did  not  use 
religious  phrases  easily,  and  he  stumbled  over  "unfair 
to  your  Heavenly  Father,"  which  was  what  Dr.  Lav 
endar  had  said  in  some  such  connection  as  this: 
"Recognize  your  privileges  and  be  grateful  for  the 
help  they  have  been  in  making  you  as  good  as  you  are. 
To  deny  what  goodness  you  have  is  not  humility,  it's 
only  being  unfair  to  your  Heavenly  Father."  But 
William  could  not  say  a  thing  like  that ;  so  he  blundered 
on  about  Providence,  while  Helena  sat,  trembling,  her 
cheek  on  David's  hair. 

"You  are  as  good  as  any  mortal  of  us  can  be,"  Will 
iam  declared,  "and  better  than  ninety-nine  mortals  in 
a  hundred.  So  there!  Why  Mrs.  Richie" — he  hesi 
tated,  and  the  color  mounted  slowly  to  his  face ;  "your 
loveliness  of  character  is  an  inspiration  to  a  plain  man 
like  me." 

It  was  intolerable.  With  a  breathless  word,  she 
rose,  swaying  a  little  under  the  burden  of  the  sleeping 
child;  then,  moving  swiftly  across  the  room,  she  laid 
him  on  a  sofa.  David  murmured  something  as  she 
put  him  down,  but  she  did  not  stop  to  hear  it.  She 
came  back  and  stood  in  front  of  William  King,  gripping 
her  hands  together  in  a  passion  of  denial. 
*  267 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"  Stop.  I  can't  bear  it.  I  can't  sit  there  with  David 
in  my  arms  and  hear  you  say  I  am  good.  It  isn't  true! 
I  can't  bear  it  — "  She  stopped  short,  and  turned 
away  from  him,  trembling  very  much. 

The  doctor,  alarmed  at  this  outbreak  of  hysteria, 
and  frowning  with  concern,  put  out  his  kind  protest 
ing  hands  to  take  hers.  But  she  cringed  away  from 
him. 

"Don't,"  she  said  hoarsely;  and  then  in  a  whisper: 
"He  is  not — my  brother." 

William,  his  hand  still  outstretched,  stared  at  her, 
his  mouth  falling  slowly  open. 

"I  told  you,"  she  said,  "that  I  wasn't — good." 

"My  God!"  said  William  King.  He  stepped  back 
sharply,  then  suddenly  sat  down,  leaning  his  head  on 
his  clenched  hand. 

Helena,  turning  slightly,  saw  him.  "I  always  told 
you  I  wasn't,"  she  cried  out  angrily;  "why  would  you 
insist  on  saying  I  was  ?" 

He  did  not  seem  to  notice  her,  though  perhaps  he 
shrank  a  little.  That  movement,  even  if  she  only 
imagined  it,  was  like  the  touch  of  flame.  She  felt  an 
intolerable  dismay.  It  was  more  than  anger,  far  more 
than  terror ;  it  seemed  to  envelop  her  whole  body  with 
a  wave  of  scarlet.  It  was  a  new,  unbearable,  burning 
anguish.  It  was  shame. 

She  had  an  impulse  to  tear  it  from  her,  as  if  it  were 
some  tangible  horror,  some  blazing  film,  that  was  cov 
ering  her  flesh.  With  a  cry,  she  broke  out: 

"You  don't  understand!  I  am  not  wicked.  Do 
you  hear  me?  I  am  not  wicked.  You  must  listen!" 

He  made  no  answer. 

"I  am  not  wicked — the  way  you  think.  My  hus 
band  killed  my  baby.  I  told  you  that,  long  ago. 

268 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

And  I  could  not  live  with  him.  I  couldn't!  Don't 
you  see?  Oh,  listen,  please!  Please  listen!  And 
Lloyd  loved  me,  and  he  said  I  would  be  happy.  And 
I  went  away.  And  we  thought  Frederick  would 
divorce  me,  so  we  could  be  married.  But  he  didn't. 
Oh,  he  didn't  on  purpose  !  And  we  have  been  waiting 
for  him  to  die.  And  he  didn't  die — he  wouldn't  die!" 
she  said  with  a  wail.  "But  now  he  is  dead,  and — " 

And  what?  Alas,  what?  She  waited  a  second, 
and  then  went  on,  with  passionate  conviction.  "And 
now  I  am  to  be  married.  Yes,  you  see,  I  am  not  as 
wicked  as  you  think.  I  am  to  be  married;  you  won't 
think  me  wicked  then,  will  you  ?  Not  when  I  am  mar 
ried  ?  I  couldn't  have  you  say  those  things  while  I  sat 
and  held  David.  But  now  I  am  to  be  married."  In 
her  excitement  she  came  and  stood  beside  him,  but 
he  would  not  look  at  her.  Silence  tingled  between 
them.  Over  on  the  sofa,  David  stirred  and  opened 
his  eyes. 

"The  child!"  William  King  said;  "be  careful."  He 
went  and  lifted  David  to  his  feet.  "Go  up-stairs,  my 
boy."  He  did  not  look  at  Mrs.  Richie,  who  bent 
down  and  kissed  David,  mechanically. 

"I  dreamed,"  the  little  boy  mumbled,  "*at  my  rab 
bits  had  earrings;  an' — " 

"Go,  dear,"  she  said;  and  David,  drowsily  obedient, 
murmured  good -night.  A  minute  later  they  heard 
him  climbing  up-stairs. 

Helena  turned  dumb  eyes  towards  the  silent  figure 
on  the  hearth-rug,  but  he  would  not  look  at  her. 
Under  his  breath  he  said  one  incredulous  and  tragic 
word: 

"  You  ?" 

Then  he  looked  at  her. 

269 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

And  at  his  lock  she  hid  her  face  in  her  bent  arm. 
That   new   sensation,   that    cleansing   fire   of   shame, 
swept  over  her  again  with  its  intolerable  scorch. 
"No!     No!     I  am  going  to  be  married;  I — " 
The  front  door  closed  behind  him.     Helena,  alone, 
crouched,  sobbing,  on  the  floor. 

But  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  fire. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

IS  old  Mr.  Wright  worse?"  Martha  called  down 
stairs,  when  the  doctor  let  himself  in  at  midnight. 

"No." 

"Well,  where  on  earth  have  you  been?"  Mrs.  King 
demanded.  She  was  leaning  over  the  banisters  in  her 
gray  flannel  dressing-gown,  her  candle  in  its  hooded 
candlestick,  throwing  a  flickering  light  on  her  square, 
anxious  face. 

William,  locking  the  front  door,  made  no  answer. 
Martha  hesitated,  and  then  came  down-stairs. 

"I  must  say,  William,  flatly  and  frankly,  that 
you — "  she  paused.  "You  look  tired  out,  Willy?" 

William,  fumbling  with  the  guard-chain,  was  silent. 

"Come  into  the  dining-room  and  I'll  get  you  some 
thing  to  eat,"  said  his  wife. 

"I  don't  want  anything  to  eat." 

Martha  glanced  at  him  keenly.  His  face  was  white 
and  haggard,  and  though  he  looked  at  her,  he  did  not 
seem  to  see  her;  when  she  said  again  something  about 
food,  he  made  no  answer.  "Why,  William!"  she  said 
in  a  frightened  voice.  Then  with  quick  common  sense, 
she  put  her  alarm  behind  her.  "Come  up-stairs,  and 
go  to  bed.  A  good  night's  sleep  will  make  a  new  man 
of  you."  And  in  a  sort  of  cheerful  silence,  she  pushed 
him  along  in  front  of  her.  She  asked  no  more  ques 
tions,  but  just  as  he  got  into  bed  she  brought  him  a 

271 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

steaming  tumbler  of  whiskey  and  water.  "  I  guess  you 
have  taken  a  little  cold,  my  dear,"  she  said. 

William  looked  at  her  dumbly;  then  realizing  that 
there  was  no  escape,  drank  his  whiskey,  while  Martha, 
her  candle  in  one  capable  hand,  waited  to  make  sure 
that  he  drained  the  last  drop.  When  he  gave  the  glass 
back  to  her,  she  touched  his  shoulder  gently  and  bade 
him  go  to  sleep.  As  she  turned  away,  he  caught  that 
capable  hand  and  held  it  in  both  of  his  for  a  moment. 

"Martha,"  he  said,  "I  beg  your  pardon." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Martha,  "of  course,  a  doctor  often 
has  to  be  out  late.  If  you  only  don't  come  down  with 
a  cold  on  your  lungs,  it's  all  right." 

"I  sha'n't  come  down  with  a  cold  on  my  lungs," 
said  William  King. 

The  letter  Helena  wrote  Lloyd  Pryor  after  she  had 
picked  herself  up,  sobbing,  from  the  floor,  had  no 
diplomacy  about  it.  Things  had  happened;  she  would 
not  go  into  them  now,  she  said,  but  things  had  happen 
ed  which  made  her  feel  that  she  must  accept  his  offer 
to  carry  out  their  original  plan.  "When  I  got  your 
letter,  last  week,  I  did  hesitate,"  she  wrote,  "because 
I  could  not  help  seeing  that  you  did  not  feel  about  it  as 
you  used  to.  But  I  can't  hesitate  any  longer.  I  must 
ask  you — " 

Lloyd  Pryor  read  as  far  as  that,  and  set  his  teeth. 
"Lloyd,  my  friend,"  he  said  aloud,  "it  appears  you 
have  got  to  pay  the  piper." 

Swearing  quietly  to  himself  he  tore  the  letter  into 
many  small  pieces,  and  threw  them  into  the  fire. 
"Well,"  he  said  grimly,  "I  have  never  repudiated  yet; 
but  I  propose  to  claim  my  ninety  days, — if  I  can't 
squeeze  out  of  it  before  that!"  He  sat  a  long  time  in 

272 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

his  inner  office,  thinking  the  thing  over:  if  it  had  to  be, 
if  the  piper  was  inexorable,  if  he  could  not  squeeze  out, 
how  should  he  safeguard  Alice?  Of  course,  a  girl  of 
nineteen  is  bound  to  resent  her  father's  second  mar 
riage;  her  annoyance  and  little  tempers  Lloyd  Pryor 
could  put  up  with,  if  only  she  need  never  know  the 
truth.  But  how  should  the  truth  be  covered?  They 
could  all  three  go  to  Europe  for  a  year.  If  there  was 
going  to  be  any  gossip — and  really  the  chance  of  gossip 
was  rather  remote;  very  few  people  had  known  any 
thing  about  Frederick  Richie  or  his  affairs,  and  Helena 
had  absolutely  no  relatives, — but  if  they  went  to  Eu 
rope  for  a  year,  any  nine  days'  wonder  would  have 
subsided  before  they  got  back.  As  for  the  offensive- 
ness  of  presenting  Helena  to  his  daughter  as  a  step 
mother,  Pryor  winced,  but  admitted  with  a  cold 
impartiality,  that  she  was  not  intrinsically  objection 
able.  It  was  only  the  idea  which  was  unpleasant.  In 
fact,  if  things  were  not  as  they  were,  she  would  make 
an  admirable  stepmother — "and  she  is  good-looking 
still,"  he  thought,  with  an  effort  to  console  himself. 
But,  of  course,  if  he  could  squeeze  out  of  it —  And  so 
his  answer  to  Helena's  letter  was  a  telegram  to  say  he 
was  coming  to  Old  Chester. 

William  King,  driving  down  the  hill  in  the  October 
dusk,  had  a  glimpse  of  him  as  the  stage  pulled  up  at 
the  gate  of  the  Stuffed  Animal  House,  and  the  doctor's 
face  grew  dully  red.  He  had  not  seen  Helena  since 
that  black,  illuminating  night;  he  had  not  seen  Dr. 
Lavendar;  he  had  scarcely  seen  his  own  wife.  He  de 
voted  himself  to  his  patients,  who,  it  appeared,  lived 
back  among  the  hills.  At  any  rate,  he  was  away  from 
home  from  morning  until  night.  William  had  many 
things  to  face  in  those  long  drives  out  into  the  country, 

273 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

but  the  mean  self -consciousness  that  he  had  been  fooled 
was  not  among  them.  A  larger  matter  than  mortifica 
tion  held  him  in  its  solemn  grip.  On  his  way  home,  in 
the  chill  October  twilights,  he  usually  stopped  at  Mr. 
Benjamin  Wright's.  But  he  never  drew  rein  at  the 
green  gate  in  the  hedge ;  as  he  was  passing  it  the  night 
that  Pryor  arrived,  he  had  to  turn  aside  to  let  the  stage 
draw  up.  A  man  clambered  out,  and  in  the  dull  flash 
of  the  stage  lanterns,  William  saw  his  face. 

"Lloyd?"  some  one  said,  in  a  low  voice;  it  was  Mrs. 
Richie,  waiting  for  him  inside  the  gate.  William  King's 
face  quivered  in  the  darkness. 

"That  you,  Nelly?"  Mr.  Pryor  said;— "no,  no;  I'll 
carry  my  own  bag,  thank  you.  Did  a  hamper  come 
down  on  the  morning  stage  ?  Good !  We'll  have  some 
thing  to  eat.  I  hope  you  haven't  got  a  sick  cook  this 
time.  Well,  how  are  you?" 

He  kissed  her,  and  put  his  arm  around  her;  then 
withdrew  it,  reminding  himself  not  to  be  a  fool.  Yet 
she  was  alluring!  If  only  she  would  be  sensible,  there 
was  no  reason  why  things  should  not  be  as  pleasant  as 
ever.  If  she  obliged  him  to  pay  the  piper,  Lloyd  Pryor 
was  coldly  aware  that  things  would  never  be  pleasant 
again. 

"  So  many  dreadful  things  have  happened!"  she  burst 
out;  but  checked  herself  and  asked,  about  his  journey; 
"and — and  Alice?" 

"Oh,  pleasant  enough,  rather  chilly.  She's  well, 
thank  you."  And  then  they  were  at  the  door,  and  in 
the  bustle  of  coming  in,  and  taking  off  his  coat,  and 
saying  "  Hullo,  David!  Where's  your  sling  ?"  disagree 
able  topics  were  postponed.  But  in  the  short  twilight 
before  the  parlor  fire,  and  at  the  supper-table,  the  easy 
commonplaces  of  conversation  tingled  with  the  con- 

274 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

sciousness  of  the  inevitable  reappearance  of  those  same 
topics.  Once,  at  the  table,  he  looked  at  her  with  a 
frown. 

"What's  the  matter,  Nelly?  You  look  old!  Have 
you  been  sick?" 

"Things  have  happened,"  she  said  with  an  effort; 
"I've  been  worried." 

"  What  things ?"  he  said;  but  before  she  could  reply, 
Sarah  came  in  with  hot  waffles,  and  the  subject  was 
dropped. 

"You  need  more  cinnamon  with  this  sugar,"  Mr. 
Pryor  said  with  annoyance.  And  Helena,  flushing 
with  anxiety,  told  the  woman  to  add  some  cinnamon 
at  once.  "Oh,  never  mind  now,"  he  said. — "But  you 
ought  to  look  out  for  things  like  that,"  he  added  when 
Sarah  had  left  the  room.  And  Helena  said  quickly, 
that  she  would;  she  was  so  sorry! 

"Dr.  Lavendar,"  David  announced,  "he  won't  let 
you  say  you  don't  like  things.  He  says  it  ain't  polite. 
But  I  don't  like—" 

"Dry  up!  dry  up!"  Mr.  Pryor  said  irritably;  "Hel 
ena,  this  young  man  talks  too  much." 

Helena  whispered  to  David  to  be  quiet.  She  had 
already  arranged  with  him  that  he  was  not  to  come 
into  the  parlor  after  supper,  which  was  an  agreeable 
surprise  to  him;  "For,  you  know,  I  don't  like  your 
brother,"  he  said,  "nor  neither  does  Danny."  Helena 
was  too  absorbed  to  remonstrate;  she  did,  however, 
remember  to  tell  Mr.  Pryor  that  David  had  asked  if 
she  was  coming  up  to  hear  him  say  his  prayers. 

"I  told  him  I  couldn't  to-night;  and  what  do  you 
suppose  he  said?  He  said,  'Does  God  like  ladies  bet 
ter  than  gentlemen  ?  I  do."1 

It  made  him  laugh,  as  she  had  hoped  it  would.  "I 
275 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

fancy  that  is  a  reflection  upon  me,"  he  said.  "The 
young  man  has  never  liked  me."  And  when  he  had 
clipped  off  the  end  of  his  cigar  and  struck  a  match 
under  the  mantelpiece,  he  added,  "So  you  hear  him 
say  his  prayers  ?  I  didn't  know  you  were  so  religiously 
inclined." 

"I'm  not  religiously  inclined;  but,  of  course,  one  has 
to  teach  a  child  to  say  his  prayers." 

"Oh,  I  don't  object  to  religion,"  Mr.  Pryor  assured 
her;  "in  fact,  I  like  it— " 

"In  other  people?"  she  interrupted  gayly. 

"Well,  yes;  in  other  people.  At  any  rate  in  your 
charming  sex.  Alice  is  very  religious.  And  I  like  it 
very  much.  In  fact,  I  have  a  good  deal  of  feeling  about 
it.  I  wouldn't  do  anything  to — to  shock  her,  you  know. 
I  really  am  perfectly  sincere  about  that,  Helena." 

He  was  sincere;  he  looked  at  her  with  an  anxiety 
that  for  once  was  quite  simple. 

"That's  why  I  wrote  you  as  I  did  about  the  future. 
I  am  greatly  embarrassed  about  Alice." 

She  caught  her  breath  at  the  suddenness  of  his  refer 
ence,  but  she  knew  him  well  enough  not  to  be  much 
surprised.  If  a  disagreeable  topic  was  to  be  discussed, 
the  sooner  it  was  taken  up  and  disposed  of,  the  better. 
That  was  Lloyd's  way. 

"Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "if  Alice  knew  of  our — ah, 
acquaintance,  it  would  shock  her.  It  would  shock  her 
very  much."  He  paused.  "Alice's  great  charm  is  her 
absolute  innocence,"  he  added  thoughtfully. 

That  comment  was  like  a  blow  in  the  face.  Helen; 
caught  her  breath  with  the  shock  of  it.  But  she  coulc 
not  stop  to  analyze  its  peculiar  terror.  "Alice  needa'1 
know,"  she  began — but  he  made  an  impatient  gesti 

"  If  we  married,  it  would  certainly  come  out." 
276 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  one  hand 
in  his  pocket,  the  other  holding  his  cigar;  he  blew 
three  smoke  rings,  and  smiled.  "Will  you  let  me  off, 
Nelly?" 

"  I  know  you  don't  love  me,"  she  broke  out  passion 
ately — 

"Oh,  now,  Helena,  not  a  scene,  please!  My  dear,  I 
love  you  as  much  as  ever.  You  are  a  charming  woman, 
and  I  greatly  value  your  friendship.  But  I  can  love 
you  just  as  much,  not  to  say  more,  if  you  are  here  in 
your  own  house  in  Old  Chester,  instead  of  being  in  my 
house  in  Philadelphia.  Why,  it  would  be  like  sitting 
on  a  volcano!" 

"I  cannot  stay  in  Old  Chester  any  longer,"  she  said; 
"dreadful  things  have  happened,  and — " 

"What  things?  You  said  that  before.  Do  explain 
these  mysterious  allusions." 

"Mr.  Wright's  son,"  she  began — and  then  her  voice 
broke.  But  she  told  him  as  well  as  she  could. 

Mr.  Pryor  gave  a  frowning  whistle.  "Shocking! 
Poor  Nelly!" 

"You  see,  I  must  go  away,"  she  said,  wringing  her 
hands;  "I  can't  bear  it!" 

"But,  my  dear,"  he  protested,  "it  wasn't  your  fault. 
You  were  not  to  blame  because  a  rash  boy — "  Then 
a  thought  struck  him;  "but  how  the  devil  did  he  dis 
cover—?" 

When  Helena  explained  that  she  supposed  old  Mr. 
Wright  had  told  his  grandson,  Pryor's  anger  broke  out: 
" He  knew?  How  did  he  find  out  ?" 

Helena  shook  her  head;  she  had  never  understood 
that,  she  said.  Lloyd's  anger  always  confused  her, 
and  when  he  demanded  furiously  why  she  had  not  told 
him  about  the  old  fool — "he'll  blazon  the  whole  thing!" 

277 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

— she  protested,  quivering,  that  Mr.  Wright  would  not 
do  that. 

"I  meant  to  tell  you,  but  I — I  forgot  it.  And  any 
way,  I  knew  he  wouldn't ;  he  said  he  wouldn't ;  besides, 
he  had  a  stroke  when  he  heard  about  Sam,  and  he 
hasn't  spoken  since.  And  Dr.  King — "  she  winced — 
"  Dr.  King  says  it's  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

"Thank  God!"  Lloyd  said  profoundly  relieved.  He 
stood  frowning  for  a  minute,  then  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders,  "Well,  of  course,  that  settles  it;  you  can't  stay 
here;  there's  no  question  about  that.  But  there's  a 
very  pleasant  little  town,  on  the  other  side  of  Mercer, 
and—" 

"It  isn't  just  the  going  away,"  she  broke  in;  "it's 
being  different  from  people.  I  never  thought  about  it 
before;  I  never  really  minded.  But  now,  I  can't  help 
seeing  that  if  you  are — different,  I  mean  just  to  please 
yourself,  you  know,  it — it  hurts  other  people,  somehow. 
Oh,  I  can't  explain,"  she  said,  incoherently,  "and  I 
don't  want  to  trouble  you,  or  talk  about  right  and 
wrong,  and  religion,  and — that  sort  of  thing — " 

"No;  please  don't,"  he  said,  dryly. 

"But  you  promised — you  promised!" 

"I  promised,"  he  said,  "and  I  have  a  prejudice  in 
favor  of  keeping  my  word.  Religion,  as  you  call  it,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  will  marry  you;  I  told  you  so 
when  I  wrote  to  you.  But  I  felt  that  if  I  put  the  mat 
ter  before  you,  and  told  you  how  difficult  the  situation 
was,  and  appealed  to  your  generosity,  for  Alice's 
sake—" 

"I  appeal  to  your  generosity! — for  the  sake  of  other 
people.  It  isn't  only  Alice  who  would  be  shocked,  if 
it  was  found  out.  Lloyd,  I  don't  insist  on  living  with 
you.  Keep  the  marriage  a  secret,  if  you  want  to; 

278 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

only,  I  must,  I  must  be  married!"  She  got  up  and 
came  and  stood  beside  him,  laying  her  hands  on  his 
arm,  and  lifting  her  trembling  face  to  his;  he  frowned, 
and  shrugged  her  hands  away. 

"Go  and  sit  down,  Nelly.  Don't  get  excited.  I 
told  you  that  I  had  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  keeping  my 
word." 

She  drew  back  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa,  cowering 
a  little  in  the  corner.  "Do  you  suppose  I  have  no 
pride  ?"  she  breathed.  "  Do  you  suppose  it  is  easy  for 
me  to — urge  ?"  He  saw  her  fingers  tremble  as,  with 
elaborate  self-control,  she  pleated  the  crimson  silk  of 
her  skirt  in  little  folds  across  her  knee.  For  a  moment 
they  were  both  silent. 

"Secrecy  wouldn't  do,"  he  said.  "To  get  married, 
and  not  tell,  is  only  whipping  Satan  round  the  stump 
as  far  as  Alice  is  concerned.  Ultimately  it  would  make 
double  explanations.  The  marriage  would  come  out, 
somehow,  and  then  the  very  natural  question  would 
be:  'Why  the  devil  were  they  married  secretly?'  No; 
you  can't  keep  those  things  hidden.  And  as  for  Alice, 
if  she  didn't  think  anything  else,  she'd  think  I  had 
fibbed  to  her.  And  that  would  nearly  kill  her;  she 
has  a  perfect  mania  about  truth!  You  see,  it  leads 
up  to  the  same  thing:  Alice's  discovery  that  I  have 
been — like  most  men.  No;  if  it's  got  to  be,  it  shall 
be  open  and  aboveboard." 

She  gasped  with  relief;  his  look  of  cold  annoyance 
meant,  just  for  the  moment,  nothing  at  all. 

I  shall  tell  her  that  I  have  met  a  lady  with  whom  I 
was  in  love  a  long  time  ago — " 

"Was  in  love?  Oh,  Lloyd!"  she  broke  in  with  a 
cry  of  pain;  at  which  intrusion  of  sentimentality  Lloyd 
Pry  or  said  with  ferocity:  "What's  that  got  to  do  with 

279 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

it?  I'm  going  to  pay  the  piper!  I'll  tell  Alice  that 
or  any  other  damned  thing  I  please.  I'll  tell  her  I'm 
going  to  be  married  in  two  or  three  months ;  I  shall  go 
through  the  form  of  an  engagement.  Alice  won't  like 
it,  of  course.  No  girl  likes  to  have  a  stepmother;  but 
I  shall  depend  on  you,  Helena,  to  make  the  thing  go 
as  well  as  possible.  That's  all  I  have  to  say." 

He  set  his  teeth  and  turning  his  back  on  her,  threw 
his  half -smoked  cigar  into  the  fire.  Helena,  cowering 
on  the  sofa,  murmured  something  of  gratitude.  Mr. 
Pryor  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  listen. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "the  next  thing  is  to  get  you  away 
from  this  place.  We've  got  to  stage  the  drama  care 
fully,  I  can  tell  you." 

"I  can  go  at  once." 

"Well;  you  had  better  go  to  New  York; — what  will 
you  do  with  your  youngster?"  he  interrupted  him 
self.  "Leave  him  on  Dr.  Lavendar's  doorstep,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"My  youngster?"  she  repeated.  "Do  you  mean 
David?" 

Mr.  Pryor  nodded  absently;  he  was  not  interested 
in  David. 

"Why,"  Helena  said  breathlessly,  "you  didn't  sup 
pose  I  was  going  to  leave  David?" 

At  which,  in  spite  of  his  preoccupation,  Pryor  laugh 
ed  outright.  "My  dear  Helena,  even  you  can  hardly 
be  so  foolish  as  to  suppose  that  you  could  take  David 
with  you?" 

She  sat  looking  at  him,  blankly.  "Not  take  David! 
Why,  you  surely  didn't  think  that  I  would  give  up 
David?" 

"My  dear,"  said  Lloyd  Pryor,  "you  will  either  give 
him  up,  or  you  will  give  me  up," 

280 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

"And  you  don't  care  which!"  she  burst  out  passion 
ately. 

He  gave  her  a  deadly  look.     "I  do  care  which." 

And  at  that  she  blenched  but  clung  doggedly  to  his 
promise.  "You  must  marry  me!" 

"There  is  no  must  about  it.  I  will.  I  have  told  you 
so.  But  I  did  not  suppose  it  was  necessary  to  make 
your  giving  up  David  a  condition.  Not  that  I  mean  to 
turn  the  young  man  out,  I'm  sure.  Only,  I  decline  to 
take  him  in.  But,  good  Heavens,  Helena,"  he  added, 
in  perfectly  genuine  astonishment,  "it  isn't  possible 
that  you  seriously  contemplated  keeping  him?  Will 
you  please  consider  the  effect  upon  the  domestic  circle 
of  a  very  natural  reference  on  his  part,  to  your  brother  ? 
You  might  as  well  take  your  servants  along  with  you 
— or  your  Old  Chester  doctor!  Really,  my  dear  Nelly," 
he  ended  banteringly,  "I  should  have  supposed  that 
even  you  would  have  had  more  sense." 

Helena  grew  slowly  very  white.  She  felt  as  if  caught 
in  a  trap ;  and  yet  the  amused  surprise  in  Lloyd  Pryor's 
face  was  honest  enough,  and  perfectly  friendly.  "I 
cannot  leave  David  here,"  she  said  faintly.  And  as 
terror  and  despair  and  dumb  determination  began  to 
look  out  of  her  eyes,  the  man  beside  her  grew  gayly 
sympathetic. 

"  I  perfectly  understand  how  you  feel.  He  is  a  nice 
little  chap.  But,  of  course,  you  see  it  would  be  im 
possible?" 

"I  can't  give  him  up." 

"I  wouldn't,"  he  said  amiably.  "You  can  go  away 
from  Old  Chester — of  course  you  must  do  that — and 
take  him  with  you.  And  I  will  come  and  see  you  as 
often  as  I  can." 

He  breathed  more  freely  than  he  had  for  weeks; 
281 


tHE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIB 

more  freely  than  since  the  receipt  of  that  brief  de 
spatch: — "F.  is  dead,"  and  the  initials  H.  R.  So  far 
from  having  used  a  sling  and  a  smooth  stone  from  the 
brook,  the  boy  had  been  a  veritable  armor-bearer  to  the 
giant!  Well;  poor  Nelly!  From  her  point  of  view,  it 
was  of  course  a  great  disappointment.  He  hated  to 
have  her  unhappy ;  he  hated  to  see  suffering ;  he  wished 
they  could  get  through  this  confounded  interview.  His 
sidewise,  uneasy  glance  at  her  tense  figure,  betrayed  his 
discomfort  at  the  sight  of  pain.  What  a  pity  she  had 
aged  so,  and  that  her  hands  had  grown  so  thin.  But 
she  had  her  old  charm  yet;  certainly  she  was  still  an 
exquisite  creature  in  some  ways — and  she  had  not 
grown  too  fat.  He  had  been  afraid  once  that  she 
would  get  fat.  How  white  her  neck  was;  it  was  like 
swan's-down  where  the  lace  fell  open  in  the  front  of  her 
dress.  For  a  moment  he  forgot  his  prudent  resolu 
tions  ;  he  put  his  arm  around  her  and  bent  his  head  to 
touch  her  throat  with  his  lips. 

But  she  pushed  him  away  with  a  flaming  look. 
"David  saves  you,  does  he?  Well;  he  will  save  me!" 

Without  another  word  she  left  him,  as  she  had  left 
him  once  before,  alone  in  the  long  parlor  with  the 
faintly  snapping  fire,  and  the  darkness  pressing  against 
the  uncurtained  windows.  This  time  he  did  not  fol 
low  her  to  plead  outside  her  closed  door.  There  was 
a  moment's  hesitation,  then  he  shook  his  head,  and 
took  a  fresh  cigar. 

"No,"  he  said,  "it's  better  this  way." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

F  it  was  me  that  was  doin'  it,"  said  Sarah,  "I'd 
send  for  the  doctor." 

"Well,   but,"    Maggie   protested,    "she   might   be 
mad." 

"If  it  was  me,  I'd  let  her  be  mad." 

"Well,  then,  why  don't  you?"  Maggie  retorted. 

"Send  for  him?"  Sarah  said  airily  impersonal. 
"Oh,  it's  none  of  my  business." 

"Did  you  even  it  to  her?"  Maggie  asked  in  a  wor 
ried  way. 

"I  did.  I  says,  'You're  sick,  Mrs.  Richie,'  I  says. — • 
She  looked  like  she  was  dead. — -'Won't  I  tell  George 
to  run  down  and  ask  Dr.  King  to  come  up  ?'  I 
says." 

"An'  what  did  she  say?"  Maggie  asked  absently. 
She  knew  what  Mrs.  Richie  had  said,  because  this  was 
the  fourth  time  she  and  Sarah  had  gone  over  it. 

"'No,'  she  says,  'I  don't  want  the  doctor.  There's 
nothing  the  matter.'  And  she  like  death!  An'  I  says, 
'Will  you  see  Mr.  Pryor,  ma'am,  before  he  goes?' 
And  she  says,  'No,'  she  says;  'tell  Mr.  Pryor  that  I 
ain't  feelin'  very  well.'  An'  I  closed  the  shutters 
again,  an'  come  down-stairs.  But  if  it  was  me,  I'd 
send  for  Dr.  King.  If  she  ain't  well  enough  to  see  her 
own  brother — and  him  just  as  kind!" — Sarah  put  her 
hand  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress  for  a  dollar  bill — 
i*  283 


THE   AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"Look  at  that!  And  you  had  one,  too,  though  he's 
hardly  ever  set  eyes  on  you,  If  she  ain't  well  enough 
to  see  him,  she's  pretty  sick." 

"Well,"  said  Maggie,  angrily,  "I  guess  I  earned  my 
dollar  as  much  as  you.  Where  would  his  dinner  be 
without  me  ?  That's  always  the  wayu  The  cook  ain't 
seen,  so  she  gets  left  out." 

"You  ain't  got  left  out  this  time,  anyhow.  He's 
a  kind  man;  I've  always  said  so.  And  she  said  she 
wasn't  well  enough  to  see  him!  Well;  if  it  was  me, 
I'd  send  for  Dr.  King." 

So  the  two  women  wrangled,  each  fearful  of  respon 
sibility,  until  at  last,  after  Maggie  had  twice  gone  up 
stairs  and  listened  at  that  silent  door,  they  made  up 
their  minds. 

"David,"  Maggie  said,  "you  go  and  wait  at  the 
gate,  and  when  the  butcher's  cart  comes  along,  you 
tell  him  you  want  on.  An'  you  go  down  street,  an* 
tell  him  you  want  off  at  Dr.  King's.  An'  you  ask 
Dr.  King  to  come  right  along  up  here.  Tell  him  Mrs. 
Richie's  real  sick." 

"  If  it  was  me,  I'd  let  him  wait  till  he  goes  to  school," 
Sarah  began  to  hesitate;  "she'll  be  mad." 

But  Maggie  had  started  in  and  meant  to  see  the 
matter  through:  "Let  her  be  mad!" 

"Well,  it's  not  my  doin',"  Sarah  said  with  a  fine 
carelessness,  and  crept  up-stairs  to  listen  again  at  Mrs. 
Richie's  door.  "Seemed  like  as  if  she  was  sort  of — 
cryin'!"  she  told  Maggie  in  an  awed  whisper  when  she 
came  down. 

David  brought  his  message  to  the  doctor's  belated 
breakfast  -  table.  William  had  been  up  nearly  all 
night  with  a  very  sick  patient,  and  Martha  had  been 
careful  not  to  wake  him  in  the  morning.  He  pushed 

284 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

his  plate  back,  as  David  repeated  Maggie's  words,  and 
looked  blankly  at  the  table-cloth. 

"She's  never  really  got  over  the  shock  about  Sam 
Wright's  Sam,  has  she?"  Martha  said.  "Sometimes 
I  almost  think  she  was — "  Mrs.  King's  expressive 
pantomime  of  eyebrows  and  lips  meant  ''in  love  with 
him" — words  not  to  be  spoken  before  a  child. 

"Nonsense!"  said  William  King  curtly.  "No;  I 
don't  want  any  more  breakfast,  thank  you,  my  dear. 
I'll  go  and  hitch  up." 

Martha  followed  him  to  the  back  door.  "William, 
maybe  she's  lonely.  I'm  very  tired,  but  perhaps  I'd 
better  go  along  with  you,  and  cheer  her  up  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  called  back  over  his  shoulder;  "it 
isn't  necessary."  Then  he  added  hastily,  "but  it's 
very  kind  in  you,  Martha,  to  think  of  it." 

"I'd  just  as  lieves,"  she  insisted  flushing  with 
pleasure. 

He  tried  to  get  his  thoughts  in  order  as  he  and 
Jinny  climbed  the  hill.  He  knew  what,  sooner  or 
later,  he  must  say  to  Mrs.  Richie,  and  he  thought 
with  relief,  that  if  she  were  really  ill,  he  could  not  say 
it  that  day.  But  the  sight  of  David  had  brought  his 
duty  home  to  him.  He  had  thought  about  it  for  days, 
and  tried  to  see  some  way  of  escape;  but  every  way 
was  blocked  by  tradition  or  religion.  Once  he  had  said 
stumblingly  to  Dr.  Lavendar,  that  it  was  wonderful 
how  little  harm  came  to  a  child  from  bad  surround 
ings,  and  held  his  breath  for  the  reply. 

"An  innocent  child  in  a  bad  home,"  said  Dr.  Laven 
dar  cheerfully,  "always  makes  me  think  of  a  water- 
lily  growing  out  of  the  mud." 

"Yes!"  said  the  doctor,  "the  mud  doesn't  hurt  it." 

"Not  the  lily;  but  unfortunately,  Willy,  my  boy, 
285 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

every  child  isn't  a  lily.  I  wouldn't  want  to  plant  one 
in  the  mud  to  see  how  it  would  grow,  would  you?" 

And  William  admitted  that  he  would  not. 

After  that  he  even  put  the  matter  to  his  wife. 
"Martha,  you're  a  sensible  woman;  I'd  like  to  ask  you 
about  a  case." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Martha  simpering,  ".I  don't  pre 
tend  to  any  very  great  wisdom,  but  I  do  know  some 
thing  about  sickness." 

"This  isn't  sickness;  it's  about  a  child.  Do  you 
think  a  child  is  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  an  older 
person  who  is  not  of  the  highest  character?  If,  for 
instance,  the  mother  was — not  good;  do  you  suppose 
a  child  would  be  injured?" 

"  Not  good  ?"  said  Martha,  horrified.  "  Oh,  William! 
Somebody  in  Upper  Chester,  I  suppose?" 

"But  she  is  a  devoted  mother;  you  couldn't  be  more 
conscientious  yourself.  So  do  you  think  her  conduct 
could  do  any  harm  to  a  child?" 

"Oh,  Willy!  A  child  in  the  care  of  a  bad  woman? 
Shocking!" 

"Not  bad — not  bad — "  he  said  faintly. 

"Most  shocking!  Of  course  a  child  would  be  sus 
ceptible  to  such  influences." 

William  drew  arabesques  on  the  table-cloth  with 
his  fork.  "Well,  I  don't  know — "  he  began. 

"7  know!"  said  Martha,  and  began  to  lay  down 
the  law.  For  if  Martha  prided  herself  upon  anything, 
besides  her  common  sense,  it  was  the  correctness  of 
her  views  upon  the  training  of  children.  But  she 
stopped  long  enough  to  say,  "William,  please!  the 
table-cloth,"  And  William  put  his  fork  down. 

He  thought  of  his  wife's  words  very  often  in  the 
next  few  days.  He  thought  of  them  when  David 

286 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

stood  rattling  the  knob  of  the  dining-room  door,  and 
saying  "  Maggie  says  please  come  and  see  Mrs.  Richie." 
He  thought  of  them  as  Jinny  pulled  him  slowly  up  the 
hill. 

Sarah  was  lying  in  wait  for  him  at  the  green  gate; 
Maggie  had  sent  for  him,  she  said;  and  having  put  the 
responsibility  where  it  belonged,  she  gave  him  what 
information  she  could.  Mis.  Richie  wasn't  well 
enough  to  see  her  brother  before  he  went  away  on  the 
stage;  she  wouldn't  eat  any  breakfast,  and  she  looked 
like  she  was  dead.  And  when  she  (Sarah)  had  given 
her  a  note  from  Mr.  Pryor,  she  read  it  and  right  after 
wards  kind  of  fainted  away  like.  An'  when  she  come 
to,  she  (Sarah)  had  said,  "Don't  you  want  the  doc 
tor?"  An'  Mrs.  Richie  said  "No."  "But  Maggie 
was  scared,  Dr.  King;  and  she  just  sent  David  for  you." 

"Quite  right,"  said  William  King.  "Let  Mrs. 
Richie  know  I  am  here." 

He  followed  the  woman  to  Helena's  door,  and  heard 
the  smothered  dissenting  murmur  within;  but  before 
Sarah,  evidently  cowed,  could  give  him  Mrs.  Richie's 
message  that  she  was  much  obliged,  but  did  not  wish 
— William  entered  the  room.  She  was  lying  with  her 
face  hidden  in  her  pillows;  one  soft  braid  fell  across 
her  shoulder,  then  sagged  down  and  lay  along  the 
sheet,  crumpled  and  wrinkled  with  a  restless  night. 
That  braid,  with  its  tendrils  of  little  loose  locks,  was  a 
curious  appeal.  She  did  not  turn  as  he  sat  down 
beside  her,  and  he  had  to  lean  over  to  touch  her  wrist 
with  his  quiet  ringers. 

" I  did  not  send  for  you,"  she  said  in  a  muffled  voice; 
"there  is  nothing  the  matter." 

"You  haven't  had  any  breakfast,"  said  William 
King.  "Sarah,  bring  Mrs.  Richie  some  coffee." 

287 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  don't  want—" 

"You  must  have  something  to  eat." 

Helena  drew  a  long,  quivering  breath;  "I  wish  you 
would  go  away.  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with 
me." 

"I  can't  go  until  you  feel  better,  Mrs.  Richie." 

She  was  silent.  Then  she  turned  a  little,  gathering 
up  the  two  long  braids  so  that  they  fell  on  each  side 
of  her  neck  and  down  across  her  breast;  their  soft 
darkness  made  the  pallor  of  her  face  more  marked. 
She  was  so  evidently  exhausted  that  when  Sarah 
brought  the  coffee,  the  doctor  slipped  his  hand  under 
her  shoulders  and  lifted  her  while  she  drank  it. 

"Don't  try  to  talk;  I  want  you  to  sleep." 

"Sleep!     I  can't  sleep." 

"You  will,"  he  assured  her. 

She  lay  back  on  her  pillows,  and  for  the  first  time 
she  looked  at  him.  "  Dr.  King,  he  has  quarrelled  with 
me." 

William  flinched,  as  though  some  wound  had  been 
touched;  then  he  said,  "Don't  talk  of  it  now." 

She  turned  her  face  sharply  away  from  him,  bury 
ing  it  in  her  pillow. 

"Mrs.  Richie,  you  must  try  to  eat  something.  See, 
Maggie  has  sent  you  some  very  nice  toast," 

"I  won't  eat.     I  wish  you  would  go." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  Then,  suddenly, 
she  cried  out,  "Well?  What  are  you  going  to  do,  all 
of  you  ?  What  did  Dr.  Lavendar  say  ?" 

"Dr.  Lavendar  doesn't  know  anything  about  it." 

"I  don't  know  why  I  told  you!  I  was  out  of  my 
head,  I  think.  And  now  you  despise  me." 

"I  don't  despise  you." 

She  laughed.     "  Of  course  you  do." 
288 


DR.    KING,     HE    HAS    QUARRELLED    WITH    ME 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Mrs.  Richie,  I'm  too  weak  myself  to  despise  any 
body." 

"I  wish  you  would  go  away,"  she  repeated. 

"I  will;  but  you  must  have  a  sedative  first." 

"David's  bromide?"  she  said  sarcastically.  "A 
broken  finger,  or  a  broken — well,  anything.  Dr.  King 
— you  won't  tell  Dr.  Lavendar?" 

"Tell?  What  kind  of  a  man  do  you  suppose  I  am! 
I  wish  you  would  tell  him  yourself,  though." 

"Tell  him  myself?"  she  gave  him  another  swift  look 
that  faltered  as  her  eyes  met  his.  "You  are  crazy! 
He  would  take  David  away." 

"Mrs.  Richie,"  said  William  miserably,  "you  know 
you  can't  keep  David." 

"Not  keep  David!" 

She  sat  up  in  bed,  supported  on  each  side  by  her 
shaking  hands;  she  was  like  a  wild  creature  at  bay; 
she  looked  him  full  in  the  face.  "Do  you  think  I 
would  give  him  up,  just  to  please  you,  or  Dr.  Lavendar, 
when  I  quarrelled  with  Lloyd,  to  keep  him?  Lloyd 
wouldn't  agree  that  I  should  have  him.  Yes;  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  David,  you  wouldn't  have  the  right  to 
despise  me!  Why,  he's  all  I've  got  in  the  world." 

William  King  was  silent. 

"You  think  I  am  wicked!  But  what  harm  could  I 
possibly  do  him  ?"  Her  supporting  arms  shook  so  that 
the  doctor  laid  a  gentle  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Lie  down,"  he  said,  and  she  fell  back  among  her 
pillows. 

"Who  could  do  more  for  him  than  I  can?  Who 
could  love  him  so  much?  He  has  everything!"  she 
said  faintly. 

"Please  take  this  medicine,"  William  interposed, 
and  his  calm,  impersonal  voice  was  like  a  blow. 

289 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"  Oh,  you  despise  me!     But  if  you  knew — " 

"I  don't  despise  you,"  he  said  again.  And  added, 
"I  almost  wish  I  did." 

But  this  she  did  not  hear.  She  was  saying  desper 
ately,  "I  will  never  give  David  up.  I  wish  I  hadn't 
told  you;  but  I  will  never  give  him  up!" 

"I  am  going  now,"  the  doctor  said.  "But  some 
time  I  am  afraid  I  must  tell  you  how  I  feel  about 
David.  But  I'll  go  now.  I  want  you  to  try  to  sleep." 

When  he  had  gone,  she  took  from  under  her  pillow 
that  letter  which  had  made  her  "faint  like."  It  was 
brief,  but  conclusive: 

"The  matter  of  the  future  has  seemed  to  settle  itself — I 
think  wisely;  and  I  most  earnestly  hope,  happily,  for  you. 
The  other  proposition  would  have  meant  certain  unhappiness 
all  round.  Keep  your  boy;  I  am  sure  you  will  find  him  a 
comfort.  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  little  too  excited  to  want  to 
see  me  again  immediately.  But  as  soon  as  you  decide  where 
you  will  go,  let  me  know,  and  let  me  be  of  any  service  in  find 
ing  a  house,  etc.  Then,  when  you  are  settled  and  feel  equal  to 
a  visit,  I'll  appear.  I  should  certainly  be  very  sorry  to  let 
any  little  difference  of  opinion  about  this  boy  interfere  with 
our  friendship.  L.  P." 

Sitting  up  in  bed,  she  wrote  in  lead-pencil,  two  lines: 

"I  will  never  see  you  again.  I  never  want  to  hear  your 
name  again." 

She  did  not  even  sign  her  name. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

nPO  have  David  go  away  for  the  long  -  anticipated 
1  trip  with  Dr.  Lavendar,  was  a  relief  to  Helena 
struggling  up  from  a  week  of  profound  prostration. 
Most  of  the  time  she  had  been  in  bed,  only  getting  up 
to  sit  with  David  at  breakfast  and  supper,  to  take  what 
comfort  she  might  in  the  little  boy's  joyous  but  friend 
ly  unconcern.  He  was  full  of  importance  in  the 
prospect  of  his  journey;  there  was  to  be  one  night  on 
a  railroad-car,  which  in  itself  was  a  serious  experience ; 
another  in  an  hotel;  hotel!  David  glowed  at  the 
word.  In  Philadelphia  they  were  to  see  the  sights  in 
the  morning;  in  the  afternoon,  to  be  sure,  Dr.  Laven 
dar  had  warned  him  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  sit 
still  while  some  one  talked.  However,  it  is  never 
necessary  to  listen.  After  the  talking,  they  would  go 
and  see  the  ships  at  the  wharves,  and  Liberty  Bell. 
Then — David's  heart  sank;  bed  loomed  before  him. 
But  it  would  be  an  hotel  bed ; — there  was  some  comfort 
in  that!  Besides,  it  is  never  necessary  to  sleep.  The 
next  day  going  home  on  the  cars  they  would  see  the 
Horseshoe  Curve;  the  very  words  made  his  throat 
swell  with  excitement. 

"Did  the  locomotive  engine  ever  drop  off  of  it?" 
he  asked  Helena. 

"No,  dear,"  she  said  languidly,  but  with  a  smile. 
She  always  had  a  smile  for  David. 

291 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

After  the  Horseshoe  Curve  there  would  be  a  night 
at  Mercer.  Mercer,  of  course,  was  less  exciting  than 
Philadelphia;  still,  it  was  "travelling,"  and  could  be 
boasted  of  at  recess.  But  as  David  thought  of  Mercer, 
he  had  a  bleak  revelation.  For  weeks  his  mind  had 
been  on  this  journey;  beyond  it,  his  thought  did  not 
go.  Now,  there  rushed  upon  him  the  staggering 
knowledge  that  after  the  night  in  Mercer,  life  would 
still  go  on!  Yes,  he  would  be  at  home;  in  Miss  Rose 
Knight's  school-room;  at  supper  with  Mrs.  Richie. 
It  is  a  heavy  moment,  this  first  consciousness  that 
nothing  lasts.  It  made  David  feel  sick;  he  put  his 
spoon  down  and  looked  at  Mrs.  Richie.  "I  shall  be 
back,"  he  said  blankly. 

And  at  that  her  eyes  filled.  "Yes,  darling!  Won't 
that  be  nice!" 

And  yet  his  absence  for  the  next  few  days  would 
be  a  relief  to  her.  She  could  think  the  whole  thing 
out,  she  said  to  herself.  She  had  not  been  well  enough 
to  think  clearly  since  Lloyd  had  gone.  To  adjust  her 
mind  to  the  bitter  finality  meant  swift  oscillations  of 
hate  and  the  habit  of  affection — the  spirit  warring 
with  the  flesh.  She  would  never  see  him  again; — • 
she  would  send  for  him!  she  despised  him; — what 
should  she  do  without  him?  Yet  she  never  wavered 
about  David.  She  had  made  her  choice.  William 
King's  visit  had  not  shaken  her  decision  for  an  instant ; 
it  had  only  frightened  her  horribly.  How  should 
she  defend  herself?  She  meant  to  think  it  all  out, 
undisturbed  by  the  sweet  interruptions  of  David's 
presence.  And  yet  she  knew  she  should  miss  him 
every  minute  of  his  absence.  Miss  him?  If  Dr. 
King  had  known  what  even  three  days  without  David 
would  mean  to  her,  he  would  not  have  wasted  his 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

breath  in  suggesting  that  she  should  give  him  up! 
Yet  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  had  the  allurement 
of  terror;  she  played  with  the  thought,  as  a  child, 
wincing,  presses  a  thorn  into  its  flesh  to  see  how  long 
it  can  bear  the  smart.  Suppose,  instead  of  this  three 
days'  trip  with  Dr.  Lavendar,  David  was  going  away 
to  stay?  The  mere  question  made  her  catch  him  in 
her  arms  as  if  to  assure  herself  he  was  hers. 

The  day  before  he  started,  Helena  was  full  of  mater 
nal  preoccupations.  The  travelling-bag  that  she  had 
begun  to  pack  for  herself — for  so  different  a  journey ! — 
had  to  be  emptied  of  its  feminine  possessions,  and 
David's  little  belongings  stowed  in  their  place.  David 
himself  had  views  about  this  packing ;  he  kept  bringing 
one  thing  or  another — his  rubber  boots,  a  cocoon,  a 
large  lump  of  slag  honeycombed  with  air-holes ;  would 
she  please  put  them  into  the  bag  ? 

"  Why,  but  darling,  you  will  be  back  again  on  Satur 
day,"  she  consoled  him,  as  each  treasure  was  rejected. 
— ("Suppose  he  was  not  coming  back!  How  should  I 
feel?") 

He  was  to  spend  the  night  before  the  journey  at  the 
Rectory,  and  after  supper  Helena  went  down  the  hill 
with  him.  "I  wish  I  hadn't  consented  to  it,"  she  said 
to  herself;  "do  you  like  to  go  and  leave  me,  David?" 
she  pleaded. 

And  David  jumping  along  at  her  side,  said  joyously, 
"Yes,  ma'am." 

At  the  Rectory  he  pushed  the  door  open  and  bounded 
in  ahead  of  her.  "I'm  here!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  put  down  his  Spirit  of  Missions,  and 
looked  over  his  spectacles.  "You  don't  say  so!  And 
you're  here,  too,  Mrs.  Richie?  Come  in!" 

Helena,  hesitating  in  the  hall,  said  she  had  only  come 
293 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

to  leave  David.  But  Dr.  Lavendar  would  not  listen 
to  that. 

"Sit  down!     Sit  down!"  he  commanded  genially. 

David,  entirely  at  home,  squatted  at  once  upon  the 
rug  beside  Danny. 

"Dr.  Lavendar,"  she  said,  "you'll  bring  him  back 
to  me  on  Saturday?" 

"Unless  I  steal  him  for  myself,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar, 
twinkling  at  David,  who  twinkled  back,  cozily  under 
standing. 

Helena  stooped  over  him  and  kissed  him ;  then  took 
one  of  his  reluctant  hands  from  its  clasp  about  his 
knees  and  held  it,  patting  it,  and  once  furtively  kissing 
it.  "Good-by,  David.  Saturday  you'll  be  at  home 
again." 

The  child's  face  fell.  His  sigh  was  not  personal;  it 
only  meant  the  tetnporarmess  of  all  human  happiness. 
Staring  into  the  fire  in  sudden  melancholy,  he  said, 
"  'By."  But  the  next  minute  he  sparkled  into  excited 
joy,  and  jumped  up  to  hang  about  her  neck  and  whisper 
that  in  Philadelphia  he  was  going  to  buy  a  false-face 
for  a  present  for  Dr.  Lavendar;  "or  else  a  jew's-harp. 
He'll  give  it  to  me  afterwards;  and  I  think  I  want  a 
jew's-harp  the  most,"  he  explained. 

"David,"  Helena  said  in  a  whisper,  putting  her 
cheek  down  against  his,  "  Oh,  David,  won't  you  please, 
give  me — 'forty  kisses'  ?  I'm  so — lonely." 

David  drew  back  and  looked  hard  into  her  face  that 
quivered  in  spite  of  the  smile  she  had  summoned  to 
meet  his  eyes.  It  was  a  long  look,  for  a  child;  then 
suddenly,  he  put  both  arms  around  her  neck  in  a 
breathless  squeeze.  "One — two — three — four — "  he 
began. 

William  King,  coming  in  for  his  evening  smoke,  saw 
294 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

that  quick  embrace;  his  face  moved  with  pain,  and 
he  stepped  back  into  the  hall  with  some  word  of  excuse 
about  his  coat.  When  he  returned,  she  was  standing 
up,  hurrying  to  get  away.  "Saturday,"  she  repeated 
to  Dr.  Lavendar;  "Saturday,  surely?" 

"Why,"  the  old  man  said  smiling,  "you  make  me 
feel  like  a  thief.  Yes;  you  shall  have  him  Saturday 
night.  Willy,  my  boy,  do  you  think  Mrs.  Richie  ought 
to  go  up  the  hill  alone  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  bright  moonlight  in  a  few  minutes," 
she  protested  nervously,  not  looking  at  the  doctor. 

"I  will  walk  home  with  Mrs.  Richie,"  William  said. 

"No!  oh,  no;  please  don't!"  The  dismay  in  her 
voice  was  unmistakable. 

Dr.  Lavendar  thrust  out  a  perplexed  lower  lip.  "If 
she'd  rather  just  go  by  herself ,  Willy,  there  are  no  high 
waymen  in  Old  Chester,  and — " 

But  William  King  interrupted  him  gently.  "I  wish 
to  speak  to  Mrs.  Richie."  And  Dr.  Lavendar  held  his 
tongue. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  bother  you,"  William  said,  as  he  held 
the  gate  open  for  her;  "but  I  felt  I  must  speak  to 
you." 

Helena  made  no  reply.  All  the  way  down  the 
street,  almost  to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  Old  Chester's 
evening  stillness  was  unbroken,  except  for  the  rustle 
of  fallen  leaves  under  their  feet.  Suddenly  the  great 
disk  of  the  hunter's  moon  lifted  slowly  up  behind 
the  hills,  and  the  night  splintered  like  a  dark  crystal ; 
sheets  of  light  spread  sharply  in  the  open  road,  gulfs 
of  shadow  deepened  under  trees  and  beside  walls.  It 
was  as  abrupt  as  sound.  William  King  broke  into 
hurried  words  as  though  he  had  been  challenged:  "I 
knew  you  didn't  want  me  to  walk  home  with  you,  but 

295 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

indeed  you  ought  not  to  go  up  the  hill  alone.     Please 
take  my  arm;  the  flagging  is  so  uneven  here." 

"No,  thank  you." 

"Mrs.  Richie,  please  don't  feel  that  I  am  not  your 
friend,  just  because —  Indeed,  I  think  I  am  more 
your  friend  than  I  ever  was.  You  will  believe  that, 
won't  you?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so;  that  is  the  way  saints  always 
talk  to  sinners." 

"  I  am  far  enough  from  being  a  saint,"  William  King 
said  with  an  awkward  effort  to  laugh;  "  but — " 

"  But  I  am  a  sinner?"  she  interrupted. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Ritchie,  don't  let  us  talk  this  way!  I 
have  nothing  but  pity,  and — and  friendship.  The  last 
thing  I  mean  to  do,  is  to  set  myself  as  a  judge  of 
your  actions;  God  knows  I  have  no  right  to  judge 
anybody!  But  this  matter  of  David,  that's  what  I 
wanted  to  speak  to  you  about.  My  responsibility," 
he  stopped,  and  drew  in  his  breath.  "Don't  you  see, 
my  responsibility- 
Helena  did  not  speak;  she  was  marshalling  all  her 
forces  to  fight  for  her  child.  How  should  she  begin? 
But  he  did  not  wait  for  her  to  begin. 

"I  would  rather  lose  my  right  hand  than  pain  you. 
I've  gone  all  over  it,  a  hundred  times.  I've  tried  to 
see  some  way  out.  But  I  can't.  The  only  way  is  for 
you  to  give  him  up.  It  isn't  right  for  you  to  have 
him!  Mrs.  Richie,  I  say  this,  and  it  is  hard  and  cruel, 
and  yet  I  never  felt  more" — William  King  stopped 
short — "friendly,"  he  ended  brokenly. 

He  was  walking  at  a  pace  she  found  hard  to  follow. 
"I  can't  go  quite  so  fast,"  she  said  faintly,  and  in 
stantly  he  came  to  a  dead  stop. 

"Dr.  King,  I  want  to  explain  to  you — " 
296 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

She  lifted  her  face,  all  white  and  quivering  in  the 
moonlight,  but  instead  of  explanations,  she  broke 
out:  "Oh,  if  you  take  him  away  from  me,  I  shall  die! 
I  don't  care  very  much  about  living  anyhow.  But 
I  can't  live  without  David.  Please,  Dr.  King;  oh, 
please;  I  will  be  good!  I  will  be  good,"  she  repeated 
like  a  child,  and  stood  there  crying,  and  clinging  to  his 
arm.  All  her  reasons  and  excuses  and  pleadings  had 
dropped  out  of  her  mind.  "Don't  take  him  away 
from  me;  I  will  be  good!"  she  said. 

William  King,  with  those  trembling  hands  on  his 
arm,  looked  down  at  her  and  trembled  too.  Then 
roughly,  he  pushed  her  hands  away.  "Come  on. 
We  mustn't  stand  here.  Don't  you  suppose  I  feel 
this  as  much  as  you  do  ?  I  love  children,  and  I  know 
what  it  means  to  you  to  let  David  go.  But  mere  than 
that,  I — have  a  regard  for  you,  and  it  pains  me  in 
expressibly  to  do  anything  that  pains  you.  You 
can't  understand  how  terrible  this  is  to  me,  and  I 
can't  tell  you.  I  mustn't  tell  you.  But  never  mind, 
it's  true.  It  isn't  right,  no,  it  isn't  right!  that  a 
woman  who — you  know  what  I  mean.  And  even  if, 
after  all,  you  should  marry  him,  what  sort  of  a  man 
is  he  to  have  charge  of  a  little  boy  like  David?  He 
has  deceived  us,  and  lied  to  us;  he  is  a  loose  liver, 

"  Wait,"  she  panted ;  "  I  am  not  going  to  marry  him. 
I  thought  you  understood  that." 

He  drew  away  from  her  with  a  horrified  gesture. 
"And  you  would  keep  an  innocent  child — " 

"No!  No!  I've  broken  with  him — on  account  of 
David!" 

"Broken  with  him!"  said  William  King;  he  caught 
her  by  the  wrist,  and  stared  at  her.  Then  with  a 

297 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

breathless  word  that  she  could  not  hear,  he  dropped 
her  hand  and  turned  his  face  away. 

Again,  in  their  preoccupation,  they  stood  still;  this 
time  in  a  great  bank  of  shadow  by  the  wall  of  the 
graveyard  half-way  up  the  hill. 

"So  you  won't  take  him  from  me?"  she  said;  "I 
will  leave  Old  Chester.  You  need  never  see  me  again/' 

"Good  God!"  said  William  King,  "do  you  think  that 
is  what  I  want?" 

She  tried  to  see  his  face,  but  he  had  turned  his  back 
on  her  so  that  she  stood  behind  him.  Her  hands  were 
clasping  and  unclasping  and  her  voice  fluttering  in  her 
throat.  "You  won't  take  him?" 

'  Mrs.  Richie,"  he  said  harshly,  "do  you  love  that 
man  still?" 

Bu.  before  she  could  answer,  he  put  the  question 
aside.  "No!  Don't  tell  me.  I've  no  right  to  ask. 
I — don't  want  to  know.  I've  no  right  to  know.  It's 
— it's  nothing  to  me,  of  course."  He  moved  as  he 
spoke  out  into  the  moonlight,  and  began  to  climb  the 
pebbly  road ;  she  was  a  step  or  two  behind  him.  When 
he  spoke  again  his  voice  was  indifferent  to  the  point  of 
contempt.  "This  side  is  smoother;  come  over  here. 
I  am  glad  you  are  not  going  to  marry  Mr.  Pryor.  He 
is  not  fit  for  you  to  marry." 

"Not  fit  for — me!"  she  breathed. 

"And  I  am  glad  you  have  broken  with  him.  But 
that  has  no  bearing  upon  your  keeping  David.  A  child 
is  the  most  precious  thing  in  the  world;  he  must  be 
trained,  and — and  all  that.  Whether  you  marry  this 
man  or  not  makes  no  difference  about  David.  If  you 
have  lived — as  you  have  lived — you  ought  not  to  have 
him.  But  I  started  the  whole  thing.  I  made  Dr. 
Lavendar  give  him  to  you.  He  didn't  want  to,  some- 

298 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

how;  I  don't  know  why.  So  don't  you  see?  I  can't 
leave  him  in  your  care.  Surely  you  see  that?  I  am 
responsible.  Responsible  not  only  to  David,  but  to 
Dr.  Lavendar." 

"If  Dr.  Lavendar  is  willing  to  let  me  have  him,  I 
don't  see  why  you  need  to  feel  so  about  it.  What  harm 
could  I  do  him  ?  Oh,  how  cruel  you  are — how  cruel  you 
are!" 

"Would  Dr.  Lavendar  let  you  have  him,  if  —  he 
knew?" 

"But  that's  over;  that's  finished,"  she  insisted,  "oh, 
I  tell  you,  it's  over!" 

The  doctor's  silence  was  like  a  whip. 

"  Oh,  I  know;  you  think  that  he  was  here  last  week. 
But  there  has  to  be  a  beginning  of  everything — that 
was  the  beginning.  I  told  him  I  would  not  give  David 
up  to  marry  him;  and  we  quarrelled.  And — it's  over." 

"  I  can't  go  into  that,"  the  doctor  said.  "That's  not 
my  business.  David  is  my  business.  Mrs.  Richie,  I 
want  you  quietly,  without  any  explanation,  to  give  the 
boy  back  to  Dr.  Lavendar.  If  you  don't,  I  shall  have 
no  choice.  I  shall  have  to  tell  him." 

"But  you  said  you  wouldn't  tell  him!  Oh,  you 
break  your  word — " 

"I  won't  tell  him  your  affairs,*'  said  William  King. 
"  I  will  never  do  that.  But  I'll  tell  him  my  own — some 
of  them.  I'll  say  I  made  a  mistake  when  I  advised 
him  to  let  you  have  David,  and  that  I  don't  think  you 
ought  to  be  trusted  to  bring  up  a  little  boy.  But  I 
won't  say  why." 

"  Dr.  King,  if  I  tell  him  just  what  youVe  said;  that 
you  think  you  made  a  mistake,  and  you  think  I  am 
not  to  be  trusted ; — if  I  tell  him  myself,  and  he  consents 
to  let  me  keep  him;  will  you  interfere?" 
90  299 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

William  reflected  heavily.  "He  won't  consent,"  he 
said;  "he'll  know  I  wouldn't  say  a  thing  like  that 
without  reason.  But  if  he  does,  I  shall  be  silent." 

There  was  a  despairing  finality  in  his  words.  They 
were  at  her  own  gate  now;  she  leaned  her  head  down 
on  it,  and  he  heard  a  pitiful  sound.  William  King's 
lips  were  dry,  and  when  he  spoke  the  effort  made  his 
throat  ache.  What  he  said  was  only  the  repetition  of 
his  duty  as  he  saw  it.  "  I'd  rather  lose  my  right  hand 
than  make  you  suffer.  But  I've  no  choice.  I've  no 
choice!"  And  when  she  did  not  answer,  he  added  his 
ultimatum.  "I'll  have  to  tell  Dr.  Lavendar  on  Sun 
day,  unless  you  will  just  let  me  settle  it  all  for  you  by 
saying  that  you  don't  want  David  any  long — " 

"Not  want  David!" 

"I  mean,  that  you've  decided  you  won't  keep  him 
any  longer.  I'll  find  a  good  home  for  him,  Mrs. 
Richie,"  he  ended  in  a  shaking  voice. 

She  gave  him  one  look  of  terror;  then  opened  the 
gate  and  shut  it  quickly  in  his  face,  drawing  the  bolt 
with  trembling  fingers.  As  she  flew  up  the  path,  he 
saw  her  for  an  instant  as  she  crossed  a  patch  of  moon 
light  ;  then  the  darkness  hid  her. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

IT  was  incredible  to  David  as  he  thought  it  over 
afterwards,  but  he  actually  slept  away  that  won 
derful  night  on  the  railroad!  When  he  climbed  on 
to  the  shutting-up  shelf  behind  red  and  green  striped 
curtains,  nothing  had  been  further  from  his  mind 
than  sleep.  It  was  his  intention  to  sit  bolt  upright 
and  watch  the  lamps  swinging  in  the  aisle,  to  crane 
his  neck  over  the  top  of  the  curtains  and  look  out  of 
the  small  hinged  window  at  the  smoke  all  thick  with 
sparks  from  the  locomotive  engine,  and  at  the  moun 
tains  with  the  stars  hanging  ever  them,  and — at  the 
Horseshoe  Curve!  But  instead  of  seeing  all  these 
wonders  that  he  and  Dr.  Lavendar  had  talked  about 
for  the  last  few  weeks,  no  sooner  had  he  been  lifted 
into  his  berth  than,  in  a  flash,  the  darkness  changed 
to  bright  daylight.  Yes;  the  dull,  common,  every- 
night  affair  of  sleep,  had  interfered  with  all  his  plans. 
He  did  not  speak  of  his  disappointment  the  next 
morning,  as  he  dressed — somehow — in  the  jostling, 
swaying  little  enclosure  where  the  washstands  were; 
but  he  thought  about  it,  resentfully.  Sleep!  "When 
I'm  a  man,  I'll  never  sleep,"  he  assured  himself;  then 
cheered  up  as  he  realized  that  absence  from  Sarah 
had  brought  at  least  one  opportunity  of  manhood — 
he  would  not  have  to  wash  behind  his  ears!  But  he 
brooded  over  his  helplessness  to  make  up  for  that 

301 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

other  loss.  He  was  so  silent  at  breakfast  in  the  sta 
tion  that  Dr.  Lavendar  thought  he  did  not  like  his 
food. 

"You  can  have  something  else,  David.  What  do 
you  want?" 

"Ice-cream,"  David  said,  instantly  alert. 

"At  breakfast!"  David  nodded,  and  the  ice-cream 
appeared.  He  ate  it  in  silence,  and  when  he  had 
scraped  the  saucer,  he  said, 

"Can  you  ever  get  back  behind,  sir?" 

"Behind  what?"  Dr.  Lavendar  asked.  He  was 
looking  at  David  and  wondering  what  was  different 
about  the  child;  he  did  not  have  quite  his  usual  as 
pect.  "I  must  have  left  off  some  of  his  clothes,"  Dr. 
Lavendar  thought  anxiously,  and  that  question  about 
getting  back  behind  suggested  buttons.  "Are  your 
braces  fastened?"  he  asked. 

"And  do  it  over  again,"  David  said.  "Is  there 
any  way  you  can  get  back  behind,  and  do  it  over 
again  ?" 

"Do  what  over  again?"  Dr.  Lavendar  said.  "If 
they've  come  unfastened — " 

"I  don't  like  sleeping,"  said  David.  "If  I  could 
get  behind  again,  I  wouldn't." 

Dr.  Lavendar  gave  it  up,  but  he  fumbled  under 
David's  little  coat  and  discovered  that  the  buttons  were 
all  right.  "There  seems  to  be  something  different 
about  you,  David,"  he  said,  as  they  pushed,  their 
chairs  from  the  table.  David  had  no  explanation  to 
offer,  so  Dr.  Lavendar  consulted  the  waitress:  "  Is  there 
anything  wrong  about  this  little  boy's  clothing?  He 
doesn't  look  just  right — " 

"I  guess  he  hasn't  had  his  hair  brushed,  sir,"  said 
the  smiling  young  woman,  and  carried  the  child  off  to 

302 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

some  lair  of  her  own,  whence  he  emerged  in  his  usual 
order. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar.  He 
took  David's  hand,  and  out  they  stepped  into  the 
world!  For  a  moment  they  stood  still  on  the  side 
walk  to  get  their  breaths  in  the  rush  and  jostle  of 
the  crowd  that  surged  along  the  street;  a  simple, 
happy  pair — an  old  man  in  a  blue  moffler  and  broad- 
brimmed  felt  hat,  a  child  in  a  little  surtout  and  visored 
cap.  David  gripped  Dr.  Lavendar's  hand  tight,  and 
looked  up  into  his  face ;  its  smile  beaming  upon  all  these 
hurrying  people,  reassured  the  child,  and  he  paced 
along  beside  the  old  gentleman  in  grave  content. 
They  stopped  at  the  first  shop-window,  and  gazed  at 
a  row  of  fish  bedded  in  ice  —  beautiful  iridescent 
mackerel,  fat  red  pompoms,  and  in  the  middle,  in  a 
nest  of  seaweed,  green-black  creatures,  with  great 
claws  that  ended  in  pincers  and  eyes  that  looked  like 
pegs  stuck  into  their  heads.  David  stared,  open- 
mouthed;  then  he  put  a  hand  into  his  pocket. 

"How  much  would  one  cost,  sir?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"I  think  I  will  buy  one,  and  take  it  home  and  keep 
it  in  a  cage." 

At  which  Dr.  Lavendar  said  gravely,  that  he  feared 
the  creatures  would  not  be  happy  in  a  cage — "And 
besides,  people  eat  them,  David." 

David  was  silent;  then,  in  a  suppressed  voice,  he 
said,  "Are  they  happy  when  people  eat  them?  I 
think  they'd  rather  be  in  a  cage;  I  would  hang  it  in 
my  window." 

But  Dr.  Lavendar  only  said,  "Dear  me!  What 
have  we  here?"  and  drew  him  to  the  next  shop,  at  the 
door  of  which  stood  a  wooden  Indian,  a  tomahawk  in 

303 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA   RICHIE 

one  hand,  and  a  cigar-box  in  the  other.  Dr.  Lavendar 
bade  David  wait  outside  while  he  went  into  this  shop, 
which  the  little  boy  was  perfectly  willing  to  do,  for 
it  isn't  every  day  you  get  the  chance  to  examine  a 
wooden  Indian,  even  to  climbing  up  on  his  pedestal 
and  feeling  his  tomahawk  with  respectful  fingers. 
When  Dr.  Lavendar  came  out,  David  took  his  kind 
old  hand,  and  burst  into  confidences. 

"When  I'm  big  I'm  going  to  fight  Indians.  Or  else 
I'll  drive  fast  horses.  I  don't  know  which.  It's  hard 
to  decide,  ain't  it,  sir?" 

"Very  hard.  If  you  choose  the  horses,  I'll  give  you 
Goliath." 

David  was  silent ;  then  he  sighed:  "  I  guess  I'll  fight 
Indians,  sir,"  he  said. 

But  a  moment  later  he  was  cheerfully  confidential: 
he  had  thirty  cents  to  spend!  "Dear,  dear,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar,  "we  mustn't  do  anything  rash.  Here,  let's 
look  in  this  window." 

Oh,  how  many  windows  there  were,  and  all  of  them 
full  of  beautiful  things!  Dr.  Lavendar  was  willing  to 
stop  at  every  one;  and  he  joined  in  David's  game  of 
"mine,"  with  the  seriousness  that  all  thoughtful  per 
sons  give  to  this  diversion. 

"  That's  mine  /"  David  would  cry,  pointing  to  a  green 
china  toad  behind  the  plate  glass;  and  Dr.  Lavendar 
would  say  gravely, 

"You  may  have  it,  David;  you  may  have  it." 

"Now  it's  your  turn!"  David  would  instruct  him. 

"Must  I  take  something  in  this  window?"  Dr.  Laven 
dar  would  plead.  And  David  always  said  firmly  that 
he  must.  "Well,  then,  that's  mine,"  Dr.  Lavendar 
would  say. 

"Why,  that's  only  a  teacup!  We  have  thousands 
304 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

of  them  at  our  house!"  David  boasted.  "I  should 
think  you  would  rather  have  the  toad.  I'll — I'll  give 
you  the  toad,  sir?" 

"Oh,  dear  me,  no,"  Dr.  Lavendar  protested;  "I 
wouldn't  rob  you  for  the  world."  And  so  they  saunter 
ed  on,  hand  in  hand.  When  they  came  to  a  book-store, 
Dr.  Lavendar  apologized  for  breaking  in  upon  their 
"game."  "I'm  going  to  play  mine,  in  here,"  he  said. 

David  was  quite  content  to  wait  at  the  door  and 
watch  the  people,  and  the  yellow  boxes  full  of  windows, 
drawn  by  mules  with  bells  jingling  on  their  harness. 
Sometimes  he  looked  fearfully  back  into  the  shop ;  but 
Dr.  Lavendar  was  still  playing  "mine,"  so  all  was  well. 
At  last,  however,  he  finished  his  game  and  came  to  the 
door. 

"Come  along,  David;  this  is  the  most  dangerous 
place  in  town!" 

David  looked  at  him  with  interest.  "Why  did  you 
skip  with  your  eye  when  you  said  that,  sir?"  he  de 
manded. 

At  which  the  clerk  who  walked  beside  them  laughed 
loudly,  and  David  grew  very  red  and  angry. 

But  when  Dr.  Lavendar  said,  "David,  I've  got  a 
bone  in  my  arm;  won't  you  carry  a  book  for  me ?"  he 
was  consoled,  and  immediately  began  to  ask  questions. 
It  seemed  to  Dr.  Lavendar  that  he  inquired  about 
everything  in  heaven  and  earth  and  the  waters  under 
the  earth,  and  at  last  the  old  gentleman  was  obliged, 
in  self-defence,  to  resort  to  the  formula  which,  accord 
ing  to  the  code  of  etiquette  understood  by  these  two 
friends,  signified  "stop  talking." 

"What  is — "  David  began,  and  his  companion  re 
plied  glibly: 

"  Layovers  for  meddlers  and  crutches  for  lame  ducks.*' 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

And  David  subsided  into  giggles,  for  it  was  under 
stood  that  this  remark  was  extremely  humorous. 

After  that  they  went  to  dinner  with  a  gentleman 
who  wore  a  long  black  coat  and  no  shirt;  at  least, 
David  could  not  see  any  shirt.  Dr.  Lavendar  called 
him  Bishop,  and  they  talked  a  great  deal  about  unin 
teresting  things.  David  only  spoke  twice:  His  host 
took  occasion  to  remark  that  he  did  not  finish  all  his 
mashed  potato — "Some  poor  child  would  be  glad  of 
what  you  waste,"  said  the  Bishop.  To  which  David 
replied,  "If  I  ate  it,  what  then,  for  the  poor  child?" 
And  the  gentleman  with  no  shirt  said  in  a  grave  aside 
to  Dr.  Lavendar  that  the  present  generation  was  in 
clined  to  pert  ness.  His  second  remark  was  made  when 
the  clergymen  pushed  their  chairs  back  from  the  table. 
But  David  sat  still.  "  We  haven't  had  the  ice-cream 
yet,"  he  objected,  gently.  "Hush!  Hush!"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar.  And  the  gentleman  laughed  very  hard,  and 
said  that  he  had  to  send  all  his  ice-cream  to  the  heathen. 
David,  reddening,  looked  at  him  in  stolid  silence.  In 
the  afternoon  there  was  a  pause;  they  went  to  church, 
and  listened  to  another  gentleman,  who  talked  a  long, 
long  time.  Sometimes  David  sighed,  but  he  kept  pret 
ty  quiet,  considering.  After  the  talk  was  over,  Dr. 
Lavendar  did  not  seem  anxious  to  get  away.  David 
twitched  his  sleeve  once  or  twice  to  indicate  his  own 
readiness,  but  it  appeared  that  Dr.  Lavendar  preferred 
to  speak  to  the  talking  gentleman.  And  the  talking 
gentleman  patted  David's  head  and  said: 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  foreign  missions,  my 
little  boy?" 

David  did  not  answer,  "but  he  moved  his  head  from 
under  the  large  white  hand. 

"You  were  very  good  and  quiet,"  said  the  talking 
306 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

gentleman.  "I  saw  you,  down  in  the  pew  with  Dr. 
Lavendar.  And  I  was  very  much  complimented ;  you 
never  went  to  sleep." 

"I  couldn't,"  said  David,  briefly;  "the  seats  are  too 
hard."  The  talking  gentleman  laughed  a  little,  and 
you  might  have  thought  Dr.  Lavendar  skipped  with 
his  eye; — at  any  rate,  he  laughed. 

"They  don't  always  tell  us  why  they  keep  awake," 
he  said.  And  the  talking  gentleman  didn't  laugh  any 
more. 

At  last,  however,  they  stopped  wasting  time,  and 
took  up  their  round  of  dissipation  again.  They  went 
to  see  Liberty  Bell;  then  they  had  supper  at  a  marble- 
topped  table,  in  a  room  as  big  as  a  church! 

"Ice-cream,  suh?"  suggested  a  waiter,  and  David 
said  "Yes!"  Dr.  Lavendar  looked  doubtful,  but  David 
had  no  doubts.  Yet,  half-way  through  that  pink  and 
white  and  brown  mound  on  his  saucer,  he  sighed,  and 
opened  and  shut  his  eyes  as  if  greatly  fatigued. 

"Finished?"  Dr.  Lavendar  asked. 

"No,  sir,"  David  said  sadly,  and  started  in  with  a 
spurt;  but  the  mound  did  not  seem  to  diminish,  and 
suddenly  his  chin  quivered.  "If  you  have  to  pay  for 
what  I  don't  eat,  I'll  try,"  he  said;  "but  my  breast  is 
cold."  Reassured  on  this  point,  and  furtively  rubbing 
his  little  chilly  stomach,  David  put  down  his  spoon  and 
slipped  out  of  his  chair,  ready  to  make  a  night  of  it. 
For,  supper  over,  they  went  to  see  a  magician! 

"I  don't  know  what  Mrs.  Richie  will  say  to  me," 
said  Dr.  Lavendar.  "You  won't  get  to  bed  before  ten 
o'clock!" 

"  She'll  say  '  all  right,'  "  said  David.  Then  he  added, 
"The  gentleman  at  dinner  tells  lies,  or  else's  he's  foolish. 
It  would  melt  before  the  heathen  got  it." 

307 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar,  singing  to  himself — 

Hither  ye  faithful,  haste  with  songs  of  triumph,— 

did  not  hear  the  morals  of  his  bishop  aspersed.  He 
took  David's  hand,  and  by  and  by  they  were  sitting 
staring  open-mouthed  at  a  man  who  put  eggs  in  a  pan, 
and  held  it  over  a  fire,  and  took  out  live  pigeons!  Oh, 
yes,  and  many  other  wonders!  David  never  spoke 
once  on  his  way  back  to  the  hotel,  and  Dr.  Lavendar 
began  to  be  worried  for  fear  the  child  was  overtired. 
He  hustled  him  to  bed  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  then 
sat  down  under  the  far-off  chandelier  of  the  hotel  bed 
room,  to  glance  at  a  newspaper  and  wait  until  David 
was  asleep  before  he  got  into  his  own  bed.  He  did  not 
have  to  wait  long  for  the  soft  breathing  of  childish 
sleep.  It  had  been  poor  David's  intention  to  go  over 
in  his  mind  every  single  thing  he  saw  the  magician  do, 
so  that  he  wouldn't  leave  out  anything  at  recess  on 
Monday.  Alas,  before  he  could  begin  to  think,  the  sun 
was  shining  again! 

It  was  Dr.  Lavendar  who  did  the  thinking  before  the 
sunlight  came.  Twice,  in  his  placid,  wakeful  night,  he 
rose  to  make  sure  the  child  was  all  right,  to  pull  up  an 
extra  blanket  about  the  small  shoulders  or  to  arrange 
the  pillow,  punched  by  David's  fist  to  the  edge  of  the 
bed.  In  the  morning  he  let  the  little  boy  look  out  of 
the  window  while  he  packed  up  their  various  belong 
ings  ;  and  when  it  was  time  to  start,  David  could  hardly 
tear  himself  away  from  that  outlook,  which  makes  such 
a  mystical  appeal  to  most  of  us — huddling  roofs  and 
chimneys  under  a  morning  sky.  But  when  he  did  turn 
to  look  at  Dr.  Lavendar,  tucking  things  into  his  valise 
and  singing  to  himself,  it  was  to  realize  again  the  im- 

308 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

mutable  past.  "No,"  he  said  slowly,  "you  can't  get 
back  behind,  and  begin  again."  Dr.  Lavendar,  under 
standing,  chuckled. 

"Can  God?"  said  David. 

At  that  Dr.  Lavendar's  face  suddenly  shone.  "Da 
vid,"  he  said,  "the  greatest  thing  in  the  world  is  to 
know  that  God  is  always  beginning  again!" 

But  David  had  turned  to  the  window  to  watch  a 
prowling  cat  upon  a  roof;  and  then,  alas,  it  was  time 
to  start. 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  as,  hand  in  hand,  they 
walked  to  the  big,  roaring  place  where  the  cars  were, 
"Well,  David,  to-morrow  we  shall  be  at  home  again! 
You  sit  down  here  and  take  care  of  my  bag  while  I  go 
and  get  the  tickets." 

David  slid  sidewise  on  to  the  slippery  wooden  settee. 
He  had  nothing  to  say ;  again  he  felt  that  bleak  sinking 
right  under  his  little  breast -bone ;  but  it  stopped  in  the 
excitement  of  seeing  Mrs.  Richie's  brother  coming  into 
the  waiting-room!  There  was  a  young  lady  at  his  side, 
and  he  piloted  her  across  the  big,  bare  room,  to  the 
very  settee  upon  which  David  was  swinging  his  small 
legs. 

"I  must  see  about  the  checks,  dear,"  he  said,  and 
hurried  off  without  a  glance  at  the  little  boy  who  was 
guarding  Dr.  Lavendar's  valise. 

The  sun  pouring  through  the  high,  dusty  window, 
shone  into  David's  eyes.  He  wrinkled  his  nose  and 
squinted  up  at  the  young  lady  from  under  the  visor  of 
his  blue  cap.  She  smiled  down  at  him,  pleasantly, 
and  then  opened  a  book;  upon  which  David  said 
bravely,  "You're  nineteen.  I'm  seven,  going  on 
eight." 

"What!"  said  the  young  lady;  she  put  her  book 
309 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

down,  and  laughed.     "How  do  you  know  I  am  nine 
teen,  little  boy  ?M 

"Mrs.  Richie's  brother  said  so." 

She  looked  at  him  with  amused  perplexity.  "And 
who  is  Mrs.  Richie's  brother?" 

David  pointed  shyly  at  the  vanishing  figure  at  the 
end  of  the  waiting-room. 

"Why,  no,  dear,  that's  my  father." 

"/know,"  said  David;  " he's  Mr.  Pryor,  Mrs.  Richie's 
brother.  He  comes  and  stays  at  our  house." 

"  Stays  at  your  house  ?  What  on  earth  are  you  talk 
ing  about,  you  funny  little  boy!  Where  is  yvur 
house?" 

"Of  Chester,"  said  David. 

The  young  lady  laughed  and  gave  him  a  kind  glance. 
"You've  made  a  mistake,  I  think.  My  father  doesn't 
know  Mrs.  Richie." 

David  had  nothing  to  say,  and  she  opened  her  book. 
When  Mr.  Pryor  returned,  hurrying  to  collect  the  bags 
and  umbrellas,  David  had  turned  his  back  and  was 
looking  out  of  the  window. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  in  the  train  that  Alice 
remembered  to  speak  of  the  incident.  "Who  in  the 
world  is  Mrs.  Richie?"  she  demanded  gayly,  "and 
where  is  Old  Chester?" 

The  suddenness  of  it  was  like  a  blow.  Lloyd  Pryor 
actually  gasped;  his  presence  of  mind  so  entirely  de 
serted  him,  that  before  he  knew  it,  he  had  lied — and 
no  one  knew  better  than  Lloyd  Pryor  that  it  is  a  mis 
take  to  lie  hurriedly. 

"  I — I  don't  know!     Never  heard  of  either  of  them." 

His  confusion  was  so  obvious  that  his  daughter  gave 
him  a  surprised  look.  "  But  I'm  told  you  stay  at  Mrs. 
Richie's  house,  in  Old  Chester,"  she  said  laughing. 

310 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

"What  are  you  talking  about!" 

"Why,  father,"  she  said  blankly;  his  irritation  was 
very  disconcerting. 

"I  tell  you  I  never  heard  of  such  a  person!"  he  re 
peated  sharply;  and  then  realized  what  he  had  done. 
"Damn  it,  what  did  I  lie  for?"  he  said  to  himself, 
angrily;  and  he  began  to  try  to  get  out  of  it:  "Old 
Chester?  Oh,  yes;  I  do  remember.  It's  somewhere 
near  Mercer,  I  believe.  But  I  never  went  there  in  my 
life."  Then  he  added  in  his  own  mind,  "Confound  it, 
I've  done  it  again!  What  the  devil  has  happened? 
Who  has  told  her?"  Aloud,  he  asked  where  she  had 
heard  of  Old  Chester. 

She  began  to  tell  him  about  a  little  boy,  who  said — 
"it  was  too  funny!"  she  interrupted  herself,  smiling — • 
"who  said  that  you  were  'Mrs.  Richie's  brother,'  and 
you  stayed  at  her  house  in  Old  Chester,  and — " 

"Perfect  nonsense!"  he  broke  in.  "He  mistook  me 
for  some  else,  I  suppose." 

"Oh,  of  course,"  she  agreed,  laughing;  upon  which 
Mr.  Pry  or  changed  the  subject  by  saying  that  he  must 
look  over  some  papers.  "Don't  talk  now,  dear,"  he 
said. 

Alice  subsided  into  her  novel;  but  after  a  while  she 
put  the  book  down.  No;  the  little  boy  had  not  mis 
taken  him  for  somebody  else;  "he's  Mr.  Pryor,"  the 
child  had  said.  But,  of  course,  the  rest  was  all  a  funny 
mistake.  She  took  the  book  up  again,  but  as  she  read, 
she  began  to  frown.  Old  Chester:  Where  had  she 
heard  of  Old  Chester?  Then  she  remembered.  A 
gentleman  who  came  to  call, — King?  Yes;  that  was 
his  name;  Dr.  King.  He  said  he  had  come  from  Old 
Chester.  And  he  had  spoken  of  somebody — now,  who 
was  it?  Oh,  yes,  Richie;  Mrs.  Richie.  And  once  last 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

spring  when  her  father  went  to  Mercer  he  said  he  was 
going  to  Old  Chester;  yet  now  he  said  he  had  never 
heard  of  the  place. — Why!  it  almost  seemed  as  if  she 
had  blundered  upon  a  secret !  Her  uneasy  smile  faded 
involuntarily  into  delicate  disgust ;  not  because  the 
nature  of  the  secret  occured  to  her,  but  because  secrecy 
in  itself  was  repugnant  to  her,  as  it  is  to  all  nobler 
minds.  She  said  to  herself,  quickly,  that  her  father 
had  forgotten  Old  Chester,  that  was  all.  Of  course,  he 
had  forgotten  it! — or  else — •  She  did  not  allow  herself 
to  reach  the  alternative  which  his  confusion  so  inevi 
tably  suggested:' — secrecy,  protected  by  a  lie.  In  the 
recoil  from  it  she  was  plunged  into  remorse  for  a  suspi 
cion  which  she  had  not  even  entertained.  Truth  was 
so  much  to  this  young  creature,  that  even  the  shadow 
of  an  untruth  gave  her  a  sense  of  uneasiness  which  she 
could  not  banish.  She  looked  furtively  at  her  father, 
sorting  out  some  papers,  his  lips  compressed,  his  eye 
brows  drawn  into  a  heavy  frown,  and  assured  herself 
that  she  was  a  wicked  girl  to  have  wondered,  even  for 
a  minute,  whether  he  was  perfectly  frank.  He!  Her 
ideal  of  every  virtue!  And  besides,  why  should  he  not 
be  frank?  It  was  absurd  as  well  as  wicked  to  have 
that  uneasy  feeling.  "I  am  ashamed  of  myself!"  she 
declared  hotly,  and  took  up  her  novel.  .  .  . 

But  David  had  thrown  the  smooth  stone  from  the 
brook! 

It  was  a  very  little  stone;  the  giant  did  not  know 
for  many  a  day  where  he  had  been  hit;  yet  it  had 
struck  him  in  the  one  vulnerable  point  in  his  armor — 
his  daughter's  trust  in  him.  How  the  wound  widened 
does  not  belong  to  this  story. 

When  Dr.  Lavendar  came  bustling  back  with  his 
tickets,  David  was  absorbed  in  thought.  He  had  very 

312 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

little  to  say  on  the  long  day's  journey  over  the  moun 
tains.  When  they  reached  Mercer  where  they  were  to 
spend  the  night,  he  had  nothing  whatever  to  say:  his 
eyes  were  closing  with  fatigue,  and  he  was  asleep  almost 
before  his  little  yellow  head  touched  the  pillow.  In  the 
morning  he  asked  a  question: 

"  Is  it  a  Aunt  if  you  don't  know  it  ?" 

"What  ?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  winding  his  clean  stock 
carefully  around  his  neck. 

But  David  relapsed  into  silence.  He  asked  so  few 
questions  that  day  that  crutches  for  lame  ducks  were 
referred  to  only  once. 

They  took  the  afternoon  stage  for  Old  Chester.  It 
was  a  blue,  delicious  October  day.  David  sat  on  the 
front  seat  between  Dr.  Lavendar  and  Jonas,  and  as 
Jonas  told  them  all  that  had  happened  during  their 
long  absence,  the  child  felt  a  reviving  interest  in  life. 
Dr.  Lavendar's  humming  broke  out  into  singing;  he 
sang  scraps  of  songs  and  hymns,  and  teased  David 
about  being  sleepy.  "I  believe  he's  lost  his  tongue, 
Jonas;  he  hasn't  said  boo!  since  we  left  Mercer.  I 
suppose  he  won't  have  a  thing  to  tell  Mrs.  Richie,  not 
a  thing!" 

"Well,  now,  there!"  said  Jonas,  "her  George  gimme 
a  letter  for  you,  and  I'll  be  kicked  if  I  ain't  forgot  it!" 
He  thrust  his  left  leg  out,  so  that  his  cow-hide  boot 
hung  over  the  dashboard,  and  fumbled  in  his  pocket; 
then  thrust  out  the  right  leg  and  fumbled  in  another 
pocket;  then  dived  into  two  or  three  coat  pockets; 
finally  a  very  crumpled  note,  smelling  of  the  stable, 
came  up  from  the  depths  and  was  handed  to  Dr. 
Lavendar. 

"  Slow  down  these  two-forties  on  a  plank  road,  Jonas, 
till  I  get  my  glasses  on,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

After  he  read  the  letter  he  did  not  sing  any  more: 
his  face  fell  into  deeply  puzzled  lines.  "I  must  ask 
Willy  what  it's  all  about,"  he  said  to  himself.  Cer 
tainly  the  note  did  not  explain  itself: 

"DEAR  DR.  LAVENDAR:  If  it  will  not  inconvenience  you, 
will  you  let  David  stay  at  the  rectory  to-night  ? — and  perhaps 
for  a  few  days  longer.  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  shall  be  able 
to  keep  him.  I  may  have  to  give  him  back  to  you.  Will 
you  let  him  stay  with  you  until  I  can  decide  what  to  do  ? 

"HELENA  R." 

"I  wonder  if  that  brother  has  interfered?"  thought 
Dr.  Lavendar.  "Something  has  happened;  that's  evi 
dent.  Keep  him?  Well,  I  guess  I  will!"  He  looked 
down  at  David,  his  old  eyes  beaming  with  pleasure. 
"  Mrs.  Richie  wants  you  to  stay  with  me  to-night ;  what 
do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"I  wanted  to  see  the  rabbits,"  said  David;  "but  I 
don't  mind  staying — very  much." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

PERHAPS  she  feels  that  it  would  be  better  for 
David  to  be — in  different  surroundings." 

"But  Willy!  Wednesday  night  she  told  me  that  I 
must  be  sure  and  bring  him  back  to  her  on  Saturday. 
What  has  happened  between  Wednesday  and  Satur 
day?" 

"Very  likely  nothing  has  happened  between  Wednes 
day  and  Saturday.  But  perhaps  she  has  just  made 
up  her  mind." 

"  Ho!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  and  after  a  while  he  added, 
'"Urn." 

Monday  morning  he  went  up  to  the  Stuffed  Animal 
House.  But  Mrs.  Richie  sent  word  down-stairs  that 
she  wasn't  well;  would  he  be  so  kind  as  to  excuse  her 
and  to  keep  David  a  little  longer.  Sarah,  when  she 
gave  the  message,  looked  as  mystified  as  Dr.  Lavendar 
felt.  "I  always  thought  she  was  just  wrapped  up  in 
that  there  boy,"  she  told  Maggie;  "and  yet  she  lets 
him  stay  away  two  days  after  he  gets  home!"  Dr. 
Lavendar,  poking  on  with  Goliath  up  the  hill  to  Ben 
jamin  Wright's,  had  very  much  the  same  feeling: 
"Queer!  I  wish  Willy  wasn't  bottled  up;  of  course 
he  knows  what  it  means.  Well;  if  I  wait,  she'll  ex 
plain  it  herself." 

But  many  days  were  to  pass  before  Helena  made  any 
effort  to  explain.  And  meantime  Dr.  Lavendar's 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

mind  was  full  of  something  else:  old  Benjamin  Wright 
was  running  down-hill  very  rapidly. 

In  certain  ways  he  seemed  better;  he  could  talk — 
and  swear — quite  fluently.  "He  sayed  to  me,  this 
mawnin',"  Simmons  told  Dr.  Lavendar,  "'Simmons, 
you  freckled  nigger,'  he  sayed,  'in  the  name  of  Lot's 
wife,  who  salted  my  porridge  ?'  He  spoke  out  just  as 
plain!"  Simmons  detailed  this  achievement  of  the 
poor  dulled  tongue,  with  the  pride  of  a  mother  repeat 
ing  her  baby's  first  word.  Then  he  simpered  with  a 
little  vanity  of  his  own:  "He  was  always  one  to  notice 
my  freckles,"  he  said. 

Benjamin  Wright,  lying  in  his  bed  with  his  hat  on 
noticed  other  things  than  Simmons 's  freckles,  and 
spoke  of  them,  too,  quite  distinctly.  "  My  boy,  S-Sam, 
is  a  good  boy.  He  comes  up  every  day.  Well,  Lav- 
Lavendar,  sometimes  I  think  I  was — at  fault?" 

"I  know  you  were,  Benjamin.  Have  you  told  him 
so?" 

"Gad-a-mercy!  N-no!"  snarled  the  other.  "He 
would  be  too  puffed  up.  Won't  do  to  make  young 
people  v-vain." 

He  "took  notice,"  too,  Simmons  said,  of  the  canaries; 
and  he  even  rolled  out,  stammeringly,  some  of  his 
favorite  verses.  But,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  was  run 
ning  down-hill;  he  knew  it  himself,  and  once  he  told 
Dr.  Lavendar  that  this  business  of  dying  made  a  man 
narrow.  "I  th-think  about  it  all  the  time,"  he  com 
plained.  "Can't  put  my  mind  on  anything  else.  It's 
damned  narrowing." 

Yet  William  King  said  to  Dr.  Lavendar  that  he 
thought  that  if  the  old  man  could  be  induced  to  talk 
of  his  grandson,  he  might  rally.  "  He  never  speaks  of 
him,"  the  doctor  said,  "but  I  am  sure  he  is  brooding 

316 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

over  him  all  the  time.  Once  or  twice  I  have  referred 
to  the  boy,  but  he  pretends  not  to  hear  me.  He's  using 
up  all  his  strength  to  bear  the  idea  that  he  is  to  blame. 
I  wish  I  could  tell  him  that  he  isn't,"  the  doctor  ended, 
sighing. 

They  had  met  in  the  hall  as  William  was  coming 
down-stairs  and  Dr.  Lavendar  going  up.  Simmons, 
who  had  been  shuffling  about  with  a  decanter  and 
hospitable  suggestions,  had  disappeared  into  the  din 
ing-room. 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "why  don't  you  tell 
him?  Though  in  fact,  perhaps  he  is  to  blame  in  some 
way  that  we  don't  know?  You  remember,  he  said  he 
had  'angered  the  boy'?" 

"No;  that  wasn't  it,"  said  William. 

Dr.  Lavendar  looked  at  him  with  sudden  attention. 
"Then  what — "  he  began,  but  a  lean,  freckled  shadow 
in  the  dining-room  doorway,  spoke  up: 

"Maybe  he  might  'a*  made  Marster  Sam's  Sam  mad, 
suh,  that  night;  maybe  he  might  'a'.  But  that  weren't 
no  reason,"  said  Simmons,  in  a  quivering  voice,  "for  a 
boy  to  hit  out  and  give  his  own  grandfather  a  lick. 
No,  suh;  it  warn't.  An'  call  him  a  liar!"  Dr.  Laven 
dar  and  William  King  stared  at  each  other  and  at  the 
old  man,  in  shocked  dismay.  "His  grandfather  used 
words,  maybe,  onc't  in  a  while,"  Simmons  mumbled 
on,  "but  they  didn't  mean  no  mo'n  skim-milk.  Don't 
I  know?  He's  damned  me  for  forty  years,  but  he'll 
go  to  heaven  all  the  same.  The  Lawd  wouldn't  hold 
it  up  agin'  him,  if  a  pore  nigger  wouldn't.  If  He 
would,  I'd  as  lief  go  to  hell  with  Mr.  Benjamin  as  any 
man  I  know.  Yes,  suh,  as  I  would  wjth  you  yo'self, 
Dr.  Lavendar.  He  was  cream  kind;  yes,  he  was! 
One  o'  them  pore  white-trash  boys  at  Morison's  shanty 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Town,  called  me  '  Ashcat'  onc't;  Mr.  Wright  he  cotched 
him,  and  licked  him  with  his  own  hands,  suh!  An'  he 
was  as  kind  to  Marster  Sam  as  if  he  was  a  baby.  But 
Marster  Sam  hit  him  a  lick.  No,  suh;  it  weren't 
right — "  Simmons  rubbed  the  cuff  of  his  sleeve  over 
his  eyes,  and  the  contents  of  the  tilting  decanter  drib 
bled  down  the  front  of  his  spotted  old  coat. 

"Simmons,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "what  had  they 
been  quarrelling  about?" 

But  Simmons  said  glibly,  that  'fore  the  Lawd,  he 
didn't  know. 

"He  does  know,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  as  the  man 
again  retired  to  his  pantry.  "But,  after  all,  the  sub 
ject  of  the  quarrel  doesn't  make  any  difference.  To 
think  that  the  boy  struck  him!  That  must  be  a  satis 
faction  to  Benjamin." 

"A  satisfaction?"  William  repeated,  bewildered. 

But  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  explain.  He  went  on 
up-stairs,  and  sat  beside  the  very  old  man,  listening 
to  his  muffled  talk,  and  saying  what  he  could  of  com 
monplace  things.  Once  Benjamin  Wright  asked  about 
Mrs.  Richie: 

"That  female  at  the  S-Stuffed  Animal  House— how 
is  she?  Poor  cr-creeter;  pretty  creeter!  Tell  her — " 

"What,  Benjamin?" 

"Nothing."  And  then  abruptly,  "It  was  my  fault. 
I  made  him  angry.  Tell  her." 

He  did  not  refer  to  her  again;  nor  did  he  speak  of 
the  boy,  except  at  the  very  end.  The  end  came  the 
week  that  David  was  staying  at  the  Rectory;  and 
perhaps  Dr.  Lavendar's  pitying  absorption  in  that 
dreary  dying,  made  him  give  less  thought  to  the  pleas 
ure  as  well  as  the  perplexity  of  the  child's  presence; 
though  certainly,  when  he  got  back  from  his  daily  visit 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

at  The  Top,  he  found  David  a  great  comfort.  Dr. 
Lavendar  stopped  twice  that  week  to  see  Mrs.  Richie, 
but  each  time  she  sent  word  that  she  was  engaged, 
would  he  excuse  her?  " Engaged,"  in  the  sense  of  not 
wishing  to  see  a  neighbor,  was  a  new  word  in  Old 
Chester.  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  insist.  He  went  on 
up  the  hill  to  that  other  house,  where,  also,  there  was  a 
deep  preoccupation  which  Benjamin  Wright  had  called 
"narrowing";  but  here  he  was  not  shut  out.  He  al 
ways  stopped  to  say  a  friendly  word  to  Simmons, 
sniffling  wretchedly  about  among  the  cages  in  the 
dining-room,  and  then  went  on  up-stairs. 

On  this  October  afternoon  the  old  servant  sneaked 
up  at  his  heels;  and  sliding  into  the  room  behind  him 
as  noiselessly  as  a  shadow,  settled  down  on  his  hunkers 
close  to  the  bedside.  Once  he  put  up  a  lean  yellow 
hand,  and  patted  the  bedclothes;  but  he  made  no  more 
claim  to  attention  than  a  dog  might  have  done.  Dr. 
Lavendar  found  his  senior  warden  in  the  sick-room. 
Of  late  Samuel  had  been  there  every  day ;  he  had  very 
little  to  say  to  his  father,  not  from  any  lingering  bitter 
ness,  but  because,  to  poor  Samuel,  all  seemed  said — 
the  boy  was  dead.  When  Dr.  Lavendar  came  in  he 
glanced  at  the  bed,  and  then,  with  a  start,  at  the  heavy 
middle-aged  figure  sitting  listlessly  at  the  bedside. 
Samuel  nodded  solemnly. 

"A  matter  of  hours,  William  says.  I  shall  not  go 
home  until  it's  over." 

"Does  he  hear  you?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  in  a  low 
voice,  leaning  over  to  look  into  the  gray  face. 

"Oh,  no;"  said  Samuel. 

The  dying  man  opened  one  eye  and  looked  at  his 
son.  "How  much  you  know!"  he  said,  then  closed  it 
again. 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Are  you  comfortable,  Benjamin?"  Dr.  Lavendar 
asked  him.  There  was  no  reply. 

Samuel's  face  reddened.  "You  can't  tell  when  he 
hears,"  he  said.  It  was  then  that  Simmons  put  out 
his  hand  and  patted  the  bedclothes  over  the  old  feet. 

They  sat  there  beside  him  for  an  hour  before  Benja 
min  Wright  spoke  again;  then  William  King  came  in, 
and  stood  looking  down  at  him. 

"He'll  just  sleep  away,"  he  told  the  son. 

"I  hope  he  is  prepared,"  said  Samuel,  and  sighed. 
He  turned  his  back  on  the  big  bed  with  the  small  figure 
sliding  down  and  down  towards  the  foot-board,  and 
looked  out  of  the  window.  The  boy  had  not  been  pre 
pared! 

Suddenly,  without  opening  his  eyes,  Benjamin 
Wright  began: 

'"Animula  vagula  blandula, 
Hospes  comesque  corporis, 
Quae  nunc  abibis  in  loca?' 

What  do  you  think,  Lavendar?" 

"  It  will  return  to  God,  who  gave  it,"  said  Dr.  Laven 
dar. 

There  was  another  silence ;  until  he  wakened  to  say, 
brightly,  "Simmons,  you  freckled  nigger,  you'd  better 
wring  their  necks,  now,  I  guess." 

"No,  suh,"  came  a  murmur  from  the  shadow  on  the 
floor,  "I'm  a-goin  to  take  care  of  'em  fine.  Yes,  suh, 
I'll  chop  their  eggs  small;  I  sho'ly  will." 

The  dying  hand  began  to  wander  over  the  coverlet; 
his  son  took  it,  but  was  fretfully  repulsed;  then  Dr. 
Lavendar  made  a  sign,  and  Simmons  laid  his  thin  old 
hand  on  it,  and  Benjamin  Wright  gave  a  contented 
sigh.  After  a  while  he  opened  that  one  eye  again,  and 

320 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

looked  at  Dr.  Lavendar;  "Isn't  it  cus-customary  on 
such  occasions,  to — admonish?"  he  said,  peevishly; 
"you  ain't  doing  your  duty  by  me,  Lavendar." 

"You  don't  need  admonition,  Benjamin.  You  know 
what  to  do." 

Silence  again,  and  after  a  while  a  broken  murmur: 
"'I  here  forget  .  .  .  cancel  all  grudge,  repeal  thee  .  .  .'" 
Then  distinctly  and  quietly  he  said:  "Sam,  will  you 
forgive  me?" 

Samuel  Wright  nodded;  he  could  not  speak  at  first, 
and  Simmons  lifting  his  head,  looked  at  him,  fiercely; 
then  he  swallowed  several  times,  and  said,  with  pon 
derous  dignity:  "Certainly,  father.  Certainly."  And 
Simmons  fell  back  into  the  shadows. 

"Of  course,"  murmured  Benjamin  Wright,  "if  I 
g-get  well,  it  needn't  hold,  you  know." 

After  that  he  seemed  to  sleep  a  little,  until,  his  eyes 
still  closed,  he  said,  "The  boy  slapped  my  face.  So 
it's  all  right." 

Samuel  started  up  from  his  chair  at  the  bedside, 
shocked  and  protesting. 

"Gad-a-mercy!"  said  Benjamin  Wright,  fretfully, 
opening  his  eye  and  looking  at  him — "that  makes  us 
square!  Don't  you  see?" 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Once  Dr.  Lavendar  spoke 
to  him,  and  once  William  King  touched  his  wrist,  but 
he  seemed  to  sleep.  Then  abruptly,  and  quite  clearly, 
he  spoke: 

" '  Crito,  I  owe  a  cock  to  ^sculapius'.  . .  .  Lavendar  ?" 

"Yes,  Benjamin?" 

"The  debt  is  paid.     Hey  ?     I  got  the  receipt." 

"  He  is  wandering,"  said  Samuel.  "  Father,  what  do 
you  want  ?" 

But  he  did  not  speak  again. 
32? 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

HELENA  had  asked  Dr.  Lavendar  to  keep  David, 
out  of  abject  fear  of  William  King.  The  doctor 
had  granted  her  until  Sunday  to  give  him  up  without 
explanations;  if  she  had  not  done  so  then,  he  must, 
he  said  doggedly,  "tell."  In  sending  the  child  to  the 
Rectory  she  had  not  given  him  up ;  she  had  only  de 
clared  a  truce.  She  had  tied  Dr.  King's  hands  and 
gained  a  breathing-space  in  which  to  decide  what  she 
must  do;  but  she  used  to  watch  the  hill  road  every 
morning,  with  scared  eyes,  lest  he  should  stop  on  his 
way  up  to  Benjamin  Wright's  to  say  that  the  truce 
was  over.  David  came  running  joyously  home  two  or 
three  times,  for  more  clothes,  or  to  see  the  rabbits,  or 
to  hang  about  her  neck  and  tell  her  of  his  journey. 
Upon  one  of  these  occasions,  he  mentioned  casually 
that  "Alice  had  gone  travelling."  Helena's  heart 
stood  still ;  then  beat  suffocatingly  in  her  throat  while 
she  drew  the  story  piecemeal  from  the  child's  lips. 

"She  said,"  David  babbled,  "that  he  didn't  know 
you.  An'  she  said — " 

"And  where  was  he — Mr.  Pryor,  all  this  time?"  she 
demanded,  breathlessly.  She  opened  and  shut  her 
hands,  and  drew  in  her  breath,  wincing  as  if  in  physical 
pain;  across  all  the  days  since  that  meeting  of  the 
Innocents,  she  felt  his  anger  flaying  her  for  the  contre 
temps.  It  brought  home  to  her,  with  an  aching  sense 

322 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

of  finality  the  completeness  of  the  break  between  them. 
But  it  did  more  than  that.  Even  while  she  cringed 
with  personal  dismay,  she  was  groping  blindly  towards 
a  deeper  and  diviner  despair:  Those  two  young  creat 
ures  were  the  cherubims  at  the  east  of  the  garden, 
bearing  the  sword  that  turned  every  way!  By  the 
unsparing  light  of  that  flashing  blade  the  two  sinners, 
standing  outside,  saw  each  other;  but  the  one,  at  least, 
began  to  see  something  else:  the  glory  of  the  garden 
upon  which,  thirteen  years  ago,  she  had  turned  her 
back!  .  .  . 

Helena  did  not  ask  any  more  questions.  David, 
lounging  against  her  knee,  chattered  on,  ending  with  a 
candid  and  uncomplimentary  reference  to  Mr.  Pryor; 
but  she  did  not  reprove  him.  When,  having,  as  it 
were,  displayed  his  sling  and  his  bag  of  pebbles,  he 
was  ready  to  run  joyously  back  to  the  other  home,  she 
kissed  him  silently  and  with  a  strange  new  conscious 
ness  of  the  everlasting  difference  between  them.  But 
that  did  not  lessen  her  passionate  determination  that 
William  King  should  never  steal  him  from  her!  Yet 
how  could  she  defeat  her  enemy  ? 

A  week  passed,  and  still  undecided,  she  wrote  to  Dr. 
Lavendar  asking  further  hospitality  for  David:  "I 
want  to  have  him  with  me  always,  but  just  now  I  am 
a  little  uncertain  whether  I  can  do  so,  because  I  am 
going  to  leave  Old  Chester.  I  will  come  and  ask  you 
about  it  in  a  few  days." 

She  took  the  note  out  to  the  stable  to  George  and 
bade  him  carry  it  to  the  Rectory;  as  she  went  back 
to  the  empty  house,  she  had  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Smith's  jewel-like  eyes  gleaming  redly  upon  her  from 
the  gloom  of  the  rabbit-hutch,  and  a  desolate  longing 
for  David  made  her  hurry  indoors.  But  there  the 

323 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

silence,  unbroken  by  the  child's  voice,  was  unendur 
able;  it  seemed  to  turn  the  confusion  of  her  thoughts 
into  actual  noise.  So  she  went  out  again  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  little  brick  paths  between  the  box  bor 
ders  of  the  garden.  The  morning  was  still  and  warm ; 
the  frost  of  a  sharp  night  had  melted  into  threads  of 
mist  that  beaded  the  edges  of  blackened  leaves  and 
glittered  on  the  brown  stems  of  withered  annuals. 
Once  she  stopped  to  pull  up  some  weed  that  showed 
itself  still  green  and  arrogant,  spilling  its  seeds  from 
yellowing  pods  among  the  frosted  flowers;  and  once 
she  picked,  and  put  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  a  little 
belated  monthly  rose,  warm  and  pink  at  the  heart,  but 
with  blighted  outer  petals.  She  found  it  impossible  to 
pursue  any  one  line  of  thought  to  its  logical  outcome; 
her  mind  flew  like  a  shuttlecock  between  a  dozen  plans 
for  William  King's  defeat.  "Oh,  I  must  decide  on 
something!"  she  thought,  desperately.  But  the  futile 
morning  passed  without  decision.  After  dinner  she 
went  resolutely  into  the  parlor,  and  sitting  down  on 
her  little  low  chair,  pressed  her  fingers  over  her  eyes 
to  shut  out  any  possible  distractions.  "Now,"  she 
said,  "I  will  make  up  my  mind." 

A  bluebottle  fly  buzzing  up  and  down  the  window 
dropped  on  the  sill,  then  began  to  buzz  again.  Through 
the  Venetian  blinds  the  sunshine  fell  in  bars  across  the 
carpet;  she  opened  her  eyes  and  watched  its  silent 
movement, — so  intangible,  so  irresistible;  the  nearest 
line  touched  her  foot ;  her  skirt ;  climbed  to  her  listless 
hands ;  out  in  the  hall  the  clock  slowly  struck  three ; 
her  thoughts  blurred  and  ran  together ;  her  very  fears 
seemed  to  sink  into  space  and  time  and  silence.  The 
sunshine  passed  over  her  lap,  resting  warm  upon  her 
bosom;  up  and  up,  until,  suddenly,  like  a  hot  finger, 

324 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

it  touched  her  face.  That  roused  her;  she  got  up, 
sighing,  and  rubbing  her  eyes  as  if  she  had  been  asleep. 
No  decision!  .  .  . 

Suppose  she  should  go  down  into  the  orchard? 
Away  from  the  house,  she  might  be  better  able  to  put 
her  mind  on  it.  She  knew  a  spot  where,  hidden  from 
curious  eyes,  she  could  lie  at  full  length  in  the  grass, 
warm  on  a  western  slope.  David  might  have  found 
her,  but  no  one  else  would  think  of  looking  for  her 
there.  .  .  .  When  she  sank  down  on  the  ground  and 
clasped  her  hands  under  her  head,  her  eyes  were  level 
with  the  late-blossoming  grass  that  stirred  a  little  in 
an  unfelt  breath  of  air;  two  frosted  stalks  of  goldenrod, 
nodded  and  swung  back  and  nodded  again,  between  her 
and  the  sky.  With  absent  intentness,  she  watched  an 
ant  creeping  carefully  to  the  top  of  a  head  of  timothy, 
then  jolting  off  at  some  jar  she  could  not  feel.  The  sun 
poured  full  upon  her  face;  there  was  not  a  cloud  any 
where  in  the  unfathomable  blue  stillness.  Thought 
seemed  to  drown  in  seas  of  light,  and  personality  dwin 
dled  until  her  pain  and  fright  did  not  seem  to  belong 
to  her.  She  had  to  close  her  eyes  to  shut  herself  into 
her  own  dark  consciousness : 

How  should  she  keep  her  child  ? 

The  simplicity  of  immediate  flight  she  had,  of  course, 
long  ago  abandoned;  it  would  only  postpone  the  strug 
gle  with  William  King.  That  inflexible  face  of  duty 
would  hunt  her  down  wherever  she  was,  and  take  the 
child  from  her.  No;  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do: 
parry  his  threat  of  confessing  to  Dr.  Lavendar  that  he 
had  "made  a  mistake"  in  advising  that  David  should 
be  given  to  her,  by  a  confession  of  her  own,  a  confession 
which  should  admit  the  doctor's  change  of  mind  with 
out  mentioning  its  cause,  and  at  the  same  time  hold 

325 


THE    AWAKENING   OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

such  promises  for  the  future  that  the  old  minister  would 
say  that  she  might  have  David.  Then  she  could  turn 
upon  her  enemy  with  the  triumphant  declaration  that 
she  had  forestalled  him ;  that  she  had  said  exactly  what 
he  had  threatened  to  say, — no  more,  no  less.  And  yet 
the  child  was  hers!  But  as  she  tried  to  plan  how  she 
should  put  it,  the  idea  eluded  her.  She  would  tell  Dr. 
Lavendar  thus  and  so :  but  even  as  she  marshalled  her 
words,  that  scene  in  the  waiting-room  of  the  railroad 
station  ached  in  her  imagination.  Alice's  ignorance  of 
her  existence  became  an  insult ;  what  she  was  going  to 
say  to  Dr.  Lavendar  turned  into  a  denunciation  of 
Lloyd  Pry  or;  he  was  vile,  and  cruel,  and  contemptible! 
But  these  words  stumbled,  too.  Back  in  her  mind, 
common  sense  agreed  to  Lloyd's  silence  to  his  daughter; 
and,  suddenly,  to  her  amazement,  she  knew  that  she 
agreed,  not  only  to  the  silence,  but  to  his  objection  to 
marrying  her.  It  would  be  an  offence  for  her  to  live 
with  Alice!  Marriage,  which  would  have  quieted  this 
new  tormenting  sense  of  responsibility  and  made  her 
like  other  people,  would  not  have  lessened  that  offence. 
It  came  over  her  with  still  more  acute  surprise,  that 
she  had  never  felt  this  before.  It  was  as  if  that  fire 
of  shame  which  had  consumed  her  vanity  the  night  she 
had  confessed  to  William  King,  had  brought  illumina 
tion  as  well  as  burning.  By  its  glare  she  saw  that  such 
a  secret  as  she  and  Lloyd  held  between  them  would  be 
intolerable  in  the  presence  of  that  young  girl.  Lloyd 
had  felt  it — here  she  tingled  all  over: — Lloyd  was  more 
sensitive  than  she!  Ah,  well ;  Alice  was  his  own  daugh 
ter,  and  he  knew  how  almost  fanatical  she  was  about 
truth;  so  he  was  especially  sensitive.  But  Dr.  King? 
He  had  felt  it  about  David :  "whether  you  married  this 
man  or  not  would  make  no  difference  about  David." 

326 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

She  thought  about  this  for  awhile  in  heavy  per 
plexity. 

Then  with  a  start  she  came  back  again  to  what  she 
must  say  to  Dr.  Lavendar:  "I  will  promise  to  bring 
David  up  just  as  he  wishes;  and  I  will  tell  him  about 
my  money;  he  doesn't  know  how  rich  I  am;  he  will 
feel  that  he  has  no  right  to  rob  David  of  such  a  chance. 
And  I  will  say  that  nobody  could  love  him  as  I  can." 
Love  him!  Had  she  not  given  up  everything  for  him, 
sacrificed  everything  to  keep  him?  For  his  sake  she 
had  not  married!  In  this  rush  of  self-approval  she  sat 
up,  and  looked  blindly  off  over  the  orchard  below  her 
at  the  distant  hills,  blue  and  slumbrous  in  the  sunshine. 
Then  she  leaned  her  head  in  her  hands  and  stared 
fixedly  at  a  clump  of  clover,  green  still  in  the  yellowing 
stubble.  .  .  .  She  had  chosen  her  child  instead  of  a 
convention  which,  less  than  a  month  ago,  she  had  so 
passionately  desired;  a  month  ago  it  seemed  to  her 
that,  once  married,  she  could  do  no  more  harm,  have 
no  more  shame.  Yet  she  had  given  all  this  up  for 
David!  .  .  .  Suddenly  she  spurred  her  mind  back  to 
that  talk  with  Dr.  Lavendar:  she  would  promise — any 
thing!  And  planning  her  promises,  she  sat  there,  gaz 
ing  with  intent,  unseeing  eyes  at  the  clover,  until  the 
chilly  twilight  drove  her  into  the  house. 

It  was  not  until  Saturday  that  she  dared  to  go  to  the 
Rectory.  It  was  early  in  the  afternoon,  just  as  the 
Collect  Class  was  gathering  in  the  dining-room.  She 
had  forgotten  it,  she  told  Mary,  as  she  closed  her 
umbrella  on  the  door-step.  "  Can  I  wait  in  the  study  ?" 
she  asked,  uncertainly; — there  was  time  to  go  back! 
The  task  of  telling  part  of  the  truth  to  this  mild  old 
man,  whose  eye  was  like  a  sword,  suddenly  daunted 
her.  She  would  wait  a  few  days, — she  began  to  open 

327 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

her  umbrella,  her  fingers  blundering  with  haste,— but 
retreat  was  cut  off:  Dr.  Lavendar,  on  his  way  to  the 
dining-room,  with  Danny  at  his  heels,  saw  her;  she 
could  not  escape! 

"Why,  Mrs.  Richie!"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  over  his 
spectacles.  "Hi,  David,  who  do  you  suppose  is  here? 
Mrs.  Richie!" 

David  came  running  out  of  the  dining-room;  "Did 
you  bring  my  slag?"  he  demanded. 

And  she  had  to  confess  that  she  had  not  thought  of 
it;  "You  didn't  tell  me  you  wanted  it,  dear,"  she  de 
fended  herself,  nervously. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  David,  "I'm  coming  home  to-mor 
row,  and  I'll  get  it." 

"Would  you  like  to  come  home?"  she  could  not  help 
saying. 

"I'd  just  as  lieves,"  said  David. 

"Run  back,"  Dr.  Lavendar  commanded,  "and  tell 
the  children  I'm  coming  in  a  minute.  Tell  Theophilus 
Bell  not  to  play  Indian  under  the  table.  Now,  Mrs. 
Richie,  what  shall  we  do?  Do  you  mind  coming  in 
and  hearing  them  say  their  Collect  ?  Or  would  you 
rather  wait  in  the  study?  We  shall  be  through  in 
three-quarters  of  an  hour.  David  shall  bring  you  some 
jumbles  and  apples.  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  carry 
him  off?"  Dr.  Lavendar  said,  ruefully. 

"Oh,"  she  faltered  in  a  sudden  panic,  "I  will  come 
some  other  time,"  but  somehow  or  other,  before  she 
knew  it,  she  was  in  the  dining-room;  very  likely  it  was 
because  she  would  not  loosen  the  clasp  of  David's  little 
warm  careless  hand,  and  so  her  reluctant  feet  followed 
him  in  his  hurry  to  admonish  Theophilus.  When  she 
entered,  instant  silence  fell  upon  the  children.  Lydia 
Wright,  stumbling  through  the  catechism  to  Ellen  Dale 

328 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

who  held  the  prayer-book  and  prompted,  let  her  voice 
trail  off  and  her  mouth  remain  open  at  the  sight  of  a 
visitor;  Theophilus  Bell  rubbed  his  sleeve  over  some 
chalk-marks  on  the  blackboard; — "I  am  drawing  a 
woman  with  an  umbrella,"  he  had  announced,  conde 
scendingly;  ''I  saw  her  coming  up  the  path," — but 
when  he  saw  her  sitting  down  by  Dr.  Lavendar,  The 
ophilus  skulked  to  his  seat,  and  read  his  Collect  ever 
with  unheeding  attention. 

Then  the  business  of  the  afternoon  began,  and 
Helena  sat  and  listened  to  it.  It  was  a  scene  which 
had  repeated  itself  for  two  generations  in  Old  Chester; 
the  fathers  and  mothers  of  these  little  people  had  sat 
on  these  same  narrow  benches  without  backs,  and 
looked  at  the  blackboard  where  Dr.  Lavendar  wrote 
out  the  divisions  of  the  Collect,  and  then  looked  at  the 
sideboard,  where  stood  a  dish  of  apples  and  another  of 
jumbles.  They,  too,  had  said  their  catechism,  an 
nouncing,  in  singsong  chorus  that  they  heartily  thanked 
their  Heavenly  Father  that  He  had  called  them  to  this 
state  of  salvation;  and  Dr.  Lavendar  had  asked  one 
or  another  of  them,  as  he  now  asked  their  children, 
"What  meanest  thou  by  this  word  Sacrament?" 
"What  is  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace?"  That 
afternoon,  when  he  swooped  down  on  David,  Helen 
squeezed  her  hands  together  with  anxiety;  did  he 
know  what  was  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace  ?  Could 
he  say  it?  She  held  her  breath  until  he  had  sailed 
triumphantly  through: 

"A  death  unto  sin,  and  a  new  birth  unto  righteousness" 
and  so  on.  When  he  had  finished,  she  looked  proudly 
at  Dr.  Lavendar,  who,  to  her  astonishment,  did  not 
bestow  a  single  word  of  praise! 

329 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"And  yet,"  said  Helena  to  herself,  "he  said  it  better 
than  any  of  them,  and  he  is  the  youngest! — David  said 
it  very  well,  didn't  he?"  she  ventured,  in  a  whisper. 

Dr.  Lavendar  made  no  answer,  but  opened  a  book; 
on  which  there  was  a  cheerful  shuffling  as  the  children 
jostled  each  other  in  their  efforts  to  kneel  down  in  the 
space  between  the  benches;  when  all  was  still,  Dr. 
Lavendar  repeated  the  Collect.  Helena  dropped  her 
face  in  her  hands,  and  listened: 

"Grant,  we  beseech  Thee,  merciful  Lord,  to  Thy  faith 
ful  people  pardon  and  peace,  that  they  may  be  cleansed 
from  all  their  sins,  and  serve  Thee  with  a  quiet  mind ; 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

"Amen!"  said  the  children,  joyfully;  and,  scram 
bling  to  their  feet,  looked  politely  at  the  sideboard. 
David,  who  played  host  on  these  occasions,  made  haste 
to  poke  the  apples  at  Mrs.  Richie,  who  could  not  help 
whispering  to  him  to  pull  his  collar  straight ;  and  she 
even  pushed  his  hair  back  a  little  from  his  forehead. 
The  sense  of  possession  came  over  her  like  a  wave,  and 
with  it  a  pang  of  terror  that  made  her  lips  dry ;  at  that 
moment  she  knew  the  taste  of  fear  in  her  mouth. 
When  Dr.  Lavendar  spoke  to  her,  she  was  unable  to 
reply. 

"Well,  now,  Mrs.  Richie,"  he  said,  "I  expect  these 
little  people  can  eat  their  apples  without  us;  can't 
you,  chickabiddies  ?" 

"Yes,  sir!"  said  the  children,  in  eager  chorus,  eying 
the  apples. 

"You  and  I  will  go  into  the  study  for  a  while,"  said 
Dr.  Lavendar. 

She  followed  him  speechlessly  .  .  .  the  time  had  come. 

330 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Dr.  Lavendar,  hospitable  and  fussy,  drew  up  a  horse 
hair-covered  chair  with  ears  on  each  side  of  the  back, 
and  bade  her  sit  down;  then  he  poked  the  fire,  and  put 
on  a  big  lump  of  coal,  and  asked  her  if  she  was  sure 
she  was  warm  enough ?  "It's  pretty  chilly;  we  didn't 
have  weather  as  cold  as  this  in  October  when  I  was 
your  age." 

"Dr.  Lavendar,"  said  Helena; — and  at  the  tremor 
in  her  voice  he  looked  at  her  quickly,  and  then  looked 
away; — "in  regard  to  David — " 

"  Yes ;  I  understand  that  you  are  not  sure  that  you 
want  to  keep  him?" 

"Oh,  no!  I  am  sure.  Entirely  sure!"  She  paused, 
uncertain  what  to  say  next.  Dr.  Lavendar  gave  her 
no  assistance.  Her  breath  caught  in  an  unsteady 
laugh.  "You  are  not  smoking,  Dr.  Lavendar!  Do 
light  your  pipe.  I  am  quite  used  to  tobacco  smoke, 
I  assure  you." 

"No,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  quietly;  " I  will  not  smoke 
now." 

"In  regard  to  David,"  she  began;  and  gripped  her 
hands  tight  together,  for  she  saw  with  dismay  that  they 
were  shaking.  She  had  an  instant  of  angry  surprise 
at  her  own  body.  It  was  betraying  her  to  the  silent, 
watching  old  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  "I 
want  him ;  but  I  mean  to  leave  Old  Chester.  Would 
you  be  willing  to  let  me  take  him  away?" 

"Why,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "we  shall  be  very  sorry 
to  have  you  leave  us;  and,  of  course,  I  shall  be  sorry 
to  lose  David.  Very  sorry!  I  shall  feel,"  said  Dr. 
Lavendar,  with  a  rueful  chuckle,  "as  if  I  had  lost  a 
tooth!  That  is  about  as  omnipresent  sense  of  loss  as 
a  human  critter  can  have.  But  I  can't  see  that  that 
is  any  reason  for  not  letting  you  take  him." 

331 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  murmured. 

"Where  are  you  going,  and  when  do  you  go?"  he 
asked,  easily;  but  he  glanced  at  those  shaking  hands. 

"I  want  to  go  next  week.  I — oh,  Dr.  Lavendar!  I 
want  David;  I  am  sure  nobody  can  do  more  for  him 
than  I  can.  Nobody  can  love  him  as  I  do!  And  I 
think  he  would  be  pretty  homesick  for  me,  too,  if  I 
did  not  take  him.  But — " 

"Yes?" 

She  tried. to  smile;  then  spread  her  handkerchief  on 
her  knee,  and  folded  it  over  and  over  with  elaborate 
self-control.  "Dr.  King  thinks — I  ought  not  to  have 
him.  He  says,"  she  stopped;  the  effort  to  repeat 
William  King's  exact  words  drove  the  color  out  of  her 
face.  "  He  says  he  made  a  mistake  in  advising  you  to 
give  David  to  me.  He  thinks — "  she  caught  her 
breath  with  a  gasp; — "I  am  not  to  be  trusted  to — to 
bring  him  up." 

She  trembled  with  relief;  the  worst  was  over.  She 
had  kept  her  promise,  to  the  letter.  Now  she  would 
begin  to  fight  for  her  child:  "You  will  let  me  have 
him?  You  will! —  Please  say  you  will,  Dr  Lav 
endar!" 

"  Why  does  Dr.  King  think  you  are  not  to  be  trust 
ed?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Because,"  she  said,  gathering  up  all  her  courage, 
"he  thinks  that  I — that  David  ought  to  be  brought 
up  by  some  one  more — more  religious,  I  suppose,  than 
I  am.  I  know  I'm  not  very  religious.  Not  as  good  as 
everybody  in  Old  Chester ;  but  I  will  bring  him  up  just 
as  you  want  me  to !  Any  way  at  all  you  want  me  to. 
I  will  go  to  church  regularly;  truly  I  will,  Dr.  Laven 
dar;  truly!" 

Dr.  Lavendar  was  silent.  The  lump  of  coal  in  the 
332 


"'DR.  LAVENDAR,'  SAID  HELENA,  'iX  REGARD  TO  DAVID*" 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

grate  suddenly  split  and  fell  apart ;  there  was  a  crack 
ling  leap  of  flames,  and  from  between  the  bars  a  spurt 
of  bubbling  gas  sent  a  whiff  of  acrid  smoke  puffing  out 
into  the  room. 

"You  will  let  me  have  him,  won't  you?  You  said 
you  would!  If  you  take  him  away  from  me — " 

"Well?" 

She  looked  at  him  dumbly;  her  chin  shook. 

"The  care  of  a  child  is  sometimes  a  great  burden; 
have  you  considered  that?" 

"Nothing  would  be  a  burden  if  I  did  it  for  David  I" 

"It  might  involve  much  sacrifice." 

"I  have  sacrificed  everything  for  him!"  she  burst 
out. 

"What?" 

"There  was  something,"  she  said  evasively,  "that 
I  wanted  to  do  very  much ;  something  that  would  have 
made  me — happier.  But  I  couldn't  if  I  kept  David; 
so  I  gave  it  up." 

Dr.  Lavendar  ruminated.  "You  wanted  David  the 
most?" 

"Yes!"  she  said  passionately. 

"Then  it  was  a  choice,  not  a  sacrifice,  wasn't  it,  my 
dear?  No  doubt  you  would  make  sacrifices  for  him, 
only  in  this  matter  you  chose  what  you  wanted  most. 
And  your  choice  was  for  your  own  happiness  I  take  it, 
—not  his?" 

She  nodded  doubtfully,  baffled  for  a  minute,  and  not 
quite  understanding.  Then  she  said,  "But  I  would 
choose  his  happiness;  I  have  done  some  things  for  him, 
truly  I  have.  Oh,  little  things,  I  suppose  you  would 
call  them ;  but  I  wasn't  used  to  them  and  they  seemed 
great  to  me.  But  I  would  choose  his  happiness,  Dre 
Lavendar.  So  you  will  let  me  keep  him?" 

333 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

''If  you  think  you  ought  to  have  him,  you  may." 

"No  matter  what  Dr.  King  says?" 

"No  matter  what  Dr.  King  says.  If  you  are  sure 
that  it  is  best  for  him  to  be  with  you,  I,  at  least,  shall 
not  interfere." 

Her  relief  was  so  great  that  the  tears  ran  down  her 
face.  "It  is  best!" 

"Best  to  be  with  you,"  Dr.  Lavendar  repeated 
thoughtfully;  "Why,  Mrs.  Richie?" 

"Why  ?  Why  because  I  want  him  so  much.  I  have 
nothing  in  the  whole  world,  Dr.  Lavendar,  but  David. 
Nothing." 

"  Other  folks  might  want  him." 

"But  nobody  can  do  as  much  for  him  as  1  can!  I 
have  a  good  deal  of  money." 

"You  mean  you  can  feed  him,  and  clothe  him,  and 
educate  him?  Well;  I  could  do  that  myself.  What 
else  can  you  do?" 

"What  else?" 

"Yes.  One  person  can  give  him  material  care  about 
as  well  as  another.  What  else  can  you  do  ?" 

"Why— "  she  began,  helplessly;  "I  don't  think  I 
know  just  what  you  mean?" 

"My  friend,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "are  you  a  good 
woman?" 

The  shock  of  the  question  left  her  speechless.  She 
tried  to  meet  his  eye;  quailed,  half  rose:  "I  don't 
know  what  you  mean!  What  right  have  you  to  ask 
me  such  a  question — " 

Dr.  Lavendar  waited. 

"Perhaps  I  don't  think  about  things,  quite  as  you 
do.  I  am  not  religious;  I  told  you  that,  I  don't  do 
things  because  of  religion;  I  believe  in  —  in  reason, 
not  in  religio'n;  I  try  to  be  go'od  in  —  my  wayt  I 

334 


THE  AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

don't  know  that  I've  been  what  you  would  call 
'good.'" 

"What  do  I  call 'good'?" 

At  which  she  burst  out  that  people  in  Old  Chester 
thought  that  people  who  did  not  live  according  to  con 
vention  were  not  good.  For  her  part,  convention  was 
the  last  thing  she  thought  of.  Indeed,  she  believed 
there  was  more  wickedness  in  convention  than  out  of 
it!  "If  I  have  done  anything  you  would  call  wrong, 
it  was  because  I  couldn't  help  it ;  I  never  wanted  to  do 
wrong.  I  just  wanted  to  be  happy.  I've  tried  to  be 
charitable.  And  I've  tried  to  be  good — in  my  way; 
but  not  because  I  wanted  to  go  to  heaven,  and  all  that. 
I — I  don't  believe  in  heaven,"  she  ended  with  terrified 
flippancy. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  sadly;  "but,  oh, 
my  child,  how  you  do  believe  in  hell  I" 

She  stared  at  him  for  one  broken  moment;  then 
flung  her  arms  out  on  the  table  beside  her,  and  dropped 
her  head  upon  them.  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  speak. 
There  was  a  long  silence;  suddenly  she  turned  upon 
him,  her  face  quivering;  "Yes!  I  do  believe  in  hell. 
Because  that  is  what  life  is!  I've  never  had  any  hap 
piness  at  all.  Oh,  it  seemed  so  little  a  thing  to  ask — 
just  to  be  happy  Yes,  I  believe  in  hell." 

Dr.  Lavendar  waited. 

"If  I've  dene  what  people  say  isn't  right,  it  was  only 
because  I  wanted  to  be  happy;  not  because  I  wanted 
to  do  wrong.  It  was  because  of  Love.  You  can't 
understand  what  that  means!  But  Christ  said  that 
because  a  woman  loved  much,  much  was  to  be  for 
given  I  Do  you  remember  that?"  she  demanded 
hotly. 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "but  do  you  remember 

335 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Who  it  was  that  she  loved  much  ?  She  loved  Goodness, 
Mrs.  Richie.  Have  you  loved  Goodness  ?" 

"Oh,  what  is  the  use  of  talking  about  it?"  she  said 
passionately;  "we  won't  agree.  If  it  was  all  to  do 
over  again,  perhaps  I —  But  life  was  so  dreadful  I  If 
you  judge  me,  remember — " 

"  I  do  not  judge  you/* 

" — remember  that  everything  has  been  against  me. 
Everything!  From  the  very  beginning.  I  never  had 
anything  I  wanted.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  be 
happy,  but  each  time  I  wasn't.  Until  I  had  David. 
And  now  you  will  take  him.  Oh,  what  a  miserable 
failure  life  has  been!  I  wish  I  could  die.  But  it  seems 
you  can't  even  die  when  you  want  to!" 

For  a  moment  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
Then  she  said:  "I  suppose  I  might  as  well  tell  you. 
Mr.  Pryor  is  not —  .  .  .  After  my  baby  died,  I  left  my 
husband.  Lloyd  loved  me,  and  I  went  to  live  with 
him." 

"  You  went  to  live  with  your  brother?"  Dr.  Lavendar 
repeated  perplexed. 

"He  is  not  my  brother." 

There  was  silence  for  a  full  minute.  Then  Dr.  Lav 
endar  said  quietly,  "Go  on." 

She  looked  at  him  with  hunted  eyes.  "Now,  you 
will  take  David  away.  Why  did  you  make  me  tell 
you  ?" 

"It  is  better  to  tell  me."  He  laid  his  old  hand  on 
hers,  clenched  upon  the  table  at  her  side.  The  room 
was  very  still ;  once  a  coal  fell  from  the  grate,  and  once 
there  was  the  soft  brush  of  rain  against  the  window. 

"It's  my  whole  life.  I  can't  tell  you  my  whole  life. 
I  didn't  ever  want  to  be  wicked;  all  I  wanted  was  to 
be  happy.  And  so  I  went  to  Lloyd.  It  didn't  seem 

336 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

so  very  wrong.  We  didn't  hurt  anybody.  His  wife 
was  dead. — As  for  Frederick,  I  have  no  regrets  I"  she 
ended  fiercely. 

The  room  had  darkened  in  the  rainy  October  twi 
light,  and  the  fire  was  low;  Dr.  Lavendar  could  hardly 
see  her  quivering  face. 

"But  now  it's  ail  over  between  Lloyd  and  me.  I 
sha'n't  see  him  ever  any  more.  He  would  have  mar 
ried  me,  if  I  had  been  willing  to  give  up  David.  But 
I  was  not  willing." 

"  You  thought  it  would  make  everything  right  if  you 
married  this  man?" 

"Right?"  she  repeated,  surprised;  "why,  of  course. 
At  least  I  suppose  that  is  what  good  people  call  right," 
she  added  dully. 

"And  you  gave  up  doing  right,  to  have  David?" 

She  felt  that  she  was  trapped,  and  yet  she  could  not 
understand  why;  "I  sacrificed  myself,"  she  said  con 
fusedly. 

"No,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "you  sacrificed  a  convic 
tion.  A  poor,  false  conviction,  but  such  as  it  was,  you 
threw  it  over  to  keep  David." 

She  looked  at  him  in  terror;  "  It  was  just  selfishness, 
you  think?" 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"  Perhaps  it  was,"  she  admitted.  "  Oh,  how  frightful 
life  is!  To  try  to  be  happy,  is  to  be  bad." 

"No;  to  try  to  be  happy  at  the  expense  of  other 
people,  is  to  be  bad." 

"But  I  never  did  that!  Lloyd's  wife  was  dead; — 
Of  course,  if  she  had  been  alive" — Helena  lifted  her 
head  with  the  curious  pride  of  caste  in  sin  which  is  so 
strongly  felt  by  the  woman  who  is  a  sinner; — "if  she 
had  been  alive,  I  wouldn't  have  thought  of  such  a 

337 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

thing.  But  nobody  knew ;  so  I  never  did  any  harm," 
— then  she  quailed;  "at  least,  I  never  meant  to  do 
any  harm.  So  you  can't  say  it  was  at  anybody's 
expense.'1 

"It  was  at  everybody's  expense.  Marriage  is  what 
makes  us  civilized.  If  anybody  injures  marriage  we 
all  pay." 

She  was  silent. 

"If  every  dissatisfied  wife  should  do  what  you  did, 
could  decent  life  go  on?  Wouldn't  we  all  drop  down 
a  little  nearer  the  animals?" 

"Perhaps  so,"  she  said  vaguely.  But  she  was  not 
following  him.  She  had  entered  into  this  experience 
of  sin,  not  by  the  door  of  reason,  but  of  emotion ;  she 
could  leave  it  only  by  the  same  door.  The  high  appeal 
to  individual  renunciation  for  the  good  of  the  many, 
was  entirely  beyond  her.  Dr.  Lavendar  did  not  press 
it  any  further. 

"Well,  anyhow,"  she  said  dully,  "I  didn't  get  any 
happiness — whether  it  was  at  other  people's  expense 
or  not.  When  David  came,  I  thought,  'now  I  am 
going  to  be  happy!'  That  was  all  I  wanted:  happi 
ness.  And  now  you  will  take  him  away." 

"I  have  not  said  I  would  take  him  away." 

She  trembled  so  at  that,  that  for  an  instant  she  could 
not  speak.  "Not  take  him?" 

"Not  if  you  think  it  is  best  for  him  to  stay  with 
you." 

She  began  to  pant  with  fear.  "  You  mean  something 
by  that.  I  know  you  do !  Oh,  what  do  you  mean  ?  I 
cannot  do  him  any  harm!" 

*"  Woman,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  solemnly,  "can  you 
do  him  any  good?" 

She  cowered  silently  away  from  hirou 

338 


:LENA     BEGS     FOR     DAVID 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"Can  you  teach  him  to  tell  the  truth,  you,  who  have 
lived  a  lie  ?  Can  you  make  him  brave,  you,  who  could 
not  endure?  Can  you  make  him  honorable,  you,  who 
have  deceived  us  all?  Can  you  make  him  unselfish, 
3^ou,  who  have  thought  only  of  self?  Can  you  teach 
him  purity,  you,  who — " 

"Stop!     I  cannot  bear  it."' 

"Tell  me  the  truth:  can  you  do  him  any  good?" 

That  last  solemn  word  fell  into  profound  silence. 
There  was  not  a  sound  in  the  still  darkness  of  the  study-; 
and  suddenly  her  soul  was  still,  too  .  .  .  the  whirlwind 
of  anger  had  died  out ;  the  shock  of  responsibility  had 
subsided ;  the  hiss  of  those  flames  of  shame  had  ceased. 
She  was  in  the  centre  of  all  the  tumults,  where  lies  the 
quiet  mind  of  God.  For  a  long  time  she  did  not  speak. 
Then,  by  and  by,  her  face  hidden  in  her  arms  on  the 
table,  she  said,  in  a  whisper: 

"No/* 

And  after  the  fire,  the  still  small  Voice. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

DR.  LAVENDAR  looked  at  the  bowed  head;  but 
he  offered  no  comfort.     When  she  said  brokenly, 
"No;  I  can't  have  him.     I  can't  have  him,"  he  assent 
ed;  and  there  was  silence  again.     It  was  broken  by  a 
small,  cheerful  voice: 

"Mary  says   supper's   ready.     There's  milk  toast, 
_„»     >i 
an  — 

Dr.  Lavendar  went  as  quickly  as  he  could  to  the 
door;  when  he  opened  it  he  stood  between  the  little 
boy  and  Helena.  "Tell  Mary  not  to  wait  for  me;  but 
ask  her  to  give  you  your  supper." 

"An*  Mary  says  that  in  Ireland  they  call  clover 
'shamrocks';  an' — " 

Dr0  Lavendar  gently  closed  the  door.  When  he  went 
back  to  his  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  she  said 
faintly,  "That  was—  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"Oh,"  she  whispered,  "I  knew  I  would  have  to  give 
him  up.  I  knew  I  had  no  right  to  him." 

"No;  you  had  no  right  to  him." 

" But  I  loved  him  so!  Oh,  I  thought,  maybe,  I  would 
be — like  other  people,  if  I  had  him." 

After  a  while,  with  long  pauses  between  the  sentences, 
she  began  to  tell.  him.  .  .  . 

"  I  never  thought  about  goodness ;  or  badness  either. 
Only  about  Lloyd,  and  happiness.  I  thought  I  had  3 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

right  to  happiness.  But  I  was  angry  at  all  the  com 
placent  married  people;  they  were  so  satisfied  with 
themselves!  And  yet  all  the  time  I  wished  Frederick 
would  die  so  that  I  could  be  married.  Oh>  the  time 
was  so  long!"  She  threw  her  arms  up  with  a  gesture 
of  shuddering  weariness;  then  clasped  her  hands  be 
tween  her  knees,  and  staring  at  the  floor,  began  to 
speak.  Her  words  poured  out,  incoherent,  contradic 
tory,  full  of  bewilderment  and  pain.  "Yes;  I  wasn't 
very  happy,  except  just  at  first.  After  a  while  I  got 
so  tired  of  Lloyd's  selfishness.  Oh — he  was  so  selfish! 
I  used  to  look  at  him  sometimes,  and  almost  hate  him. 
He  always  took  the  most  comfortable  chair,  and  he 
cared  so  much  about  things  to  eat.  And  he  got  fat. 
And  he  didn't  mind  Frederick's  living.  I  could  see 
that.  And  I  prayed  that  Frederick  would  die. — I  sup 
pose  you  think  it  was  wicked  to  pray  that  ?" 

"Goon." 

"It  was  only  because  I  loved  Lloyd  so  much.  But 
he  didn't  die.  And  I  began  not  to  be  happy.  And 
then  I  thought  Lloyd  didn't  want  to  talk  to  me  about 
Alice.  Alice  is  his  daughter.  It  was  three  years  ago 
I  first  noticed  that.  But  I  wasn't  really  sure  until  this 
summer.  He  didn't  even  like  to  show  me  her  picture. 
That  nearly  killed  me,  Dr.  Lavendar.  And  once,  just 
lately,  he  told  me  her  'greatest  charm  was  her  inno 
cence.'  Oh,  it  was  cruel  in  him  to  say  that!  How 
could  he  be  so  cruel!"  she  looked  at  him  for  sympathy; 
but  he  was  silent.  "But  underneath,  somehow,  I  under 
stood;  and  that  made  me  angry, — to  understand.  It 
was  this  summer  that  I  began  to  be  angry.  And  then 
I  got  so  jealous:  not  of  Alice,  exactly;  but  of  what  she 
stood  for.  It  was  a  kind  of  fright,  because  I  couldn't 
go  back  and  begin  again.  Do  you  know  what  I  mean  ?" 

34i 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  know." 

"Oh,  Dr.  Lavendar,  it  is  so  horrible  1  When  I  be* 
gan  to  understand,  it  seemed  like  something  broken 
— broken — broken  1  It  could  never  be  mended." 

"No." 

.  .  .  Sometimes,  as  she  went  on  he  asked  a  question, 
and  sometimes  made  a  comment.  The  comment  was 
always  the  same:  when  she  spoke  of  marrying  Fred 
erick  to  get  away  from  her  bleak  life  with  her  grand 
mother,  she  said,  "Oh,  it  was  a  mistake,  a  mistake!" 

And  he  said,  "It  was  a  sin." 

And  again:  "I  thought  Lloyd  would  make  me  hap 
py;  I  just  went  to  be  happy;  that  was  my  second  mis 
take." 

"It  was  your  second  sin." 

"You  think  I  am  a  sinner,"  she  said;  "oh,  Dr. 
Lavendar,  I  am  not  as  bad  as  you  think!  I  always  ex 
pected  to  marry  Lloyd .  I  am  not  like  a — fallen  woman. ' ' 

"Why  not?"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

She  shrank  back  with  a  gesture  of  dismay.  "I  al 
ways  expected  to  marry  him!" 

"  It  would  have  been  just  the  same  if  you  had  mar 
ried  him." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said  faintly. 

"From  the  beginning,"  he  said,  "you  have  thought 
only  of  self.  You  would  not  have  been  redeemed  from 
self  by  gaining  what  would  have  made  you  more  satis 
fied  with  yourself." 

She  thought  about  this  for  a  few  minutes  in  a  heavy 
silence.  "You  mean,  getting  married  would  not  have 
changed  things,  really?" 

"It  would  have  made  the  life  you  were  living  less 
harmful  to  your  fellow  creatures,  perhaps;  but  it- 
would  have  made  no  difference  between  you  two." 

342 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

"I  thought  I  would  be  happier,"  she  said. 

"Happier!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "what  sort  of  hap 
piness  could  there  be  in  a  marriage  where  the  man  could 
never  respect  the  woman,  and  the  woman  could  never 
trust  the  man!" 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  it  that  way,"  she  said  slowly. 
And  then  she  began  again.  .  .  .  Once  Dr.  Lavendar 
interrupted  her  to  light  the  lamp,  for  the  study  was 
dark  except  for  the  wink  of  red  coals  in  the  grate ;  and 
once  he  checked  her,  and  went  into  the  dining-room 
to  bring  her  a  glass  of  wine  and  some  food.  She  pro 
tested,  but  he  had  his  way,  and  she  ate  and  drank 
before  going  on  with  her  story.  When  she  told  him, 
brokenly,  of  Sam  Wright,  Dr.  Lavendar  got  up  and 
walked  the  length  of  the  study.  But  he  made  no  com 
ment — none  was  needed.  When  she  ended,  there  was 
a  long  pause.  Suddenly  she  clasped  her  hands  on  the 
top  of  her  head,  and  bowed  her  forehead  almost  to  her 
knees.  She  seemed  to  speak  as  if  to  herself: 

"Not  worthy;  not  worthy.".  .  .  Then  aloud;  "7 
give  him  up"  she  said.  And  stretched  out  empty 
arms. 

She  rose,  and  began  to  feel  about  for  her  cloak  that 
had  fallen  across  the  arm  of  her  chair.  But  she  was 
half  blind  with  weeping,  and  Dr.  Lavendar  found  it 
for  her  and  gently  put  it  over  her  shoulders. 

"I  will  go  away,"  she  said,  "but  I  may  see  him 
again,  mayn't  I  ?  Just  once  more,  to  say  good -by  to 
him." 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

"I'll  send  his  little  things  down  to  you  to-morrow, 
Dr.  Lavendar.  Oh, — his  dear  little  things!" 

"Very  well." 

He  lighted  a  lantern  for  her,  but  made  no  oUer  to  see 
343 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

her  home,  or  to  send  his  Mary  along  as  an  escort.  Yet 
when  he  let  her  go  away  into  the  rainy  darkness,  he 
stood  in  the  doorway  a  long  while,  looking  after  her. 
Then  he  went  back  to  the  study,  to  pace  up  and  down, 
up  and  down.  Twice  he  stopped  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  then  at  the  clock.  But  each  time  he  put 
the  impulse  aside.  He  must  not  interfere. 

It  was  almost  midnight  before  he  took  his  lamp  and 
went  up-stairs;  at  David's  door  he  hesitated,  and  then 
went  in.  The  little  boy  was  lying  curled  up  like  a 
puppy,  his  face  almost  hidden  in  his  pillow,  but  his 
cheek  glowing  red  under  the  soft  thatch  of  hair.  Dr. 
Lavendar,  shading  his  lamp  with  one  hand,  looked 
down  at  him  a  long  time.  On  the  wall  behind  him 
and  half-way  across  the  ceiling,  the  old  man's  shadow 
loomed  wavering  and  gigantic,  and  the  light,  nickering 
up  on  his  face,  deepened  the  lines  of  age  and  of  other 
people's  troubles.  By  and  by  he  stooped  down,  and 
gently  laid  his  old  palm  upon  the  little  head. 

When  he  lifted  himself  up  his  face  was  full  of  peace. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

"  T  X  TILLIAM,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "you may  tell  me 

V  V  anything  I  ought  to  know  about  Mrs.  Richie." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  with  a  start,  and  a  half- 
spoken  question. 

"Yes;  she  told  me.  But  I  want  to  ask  you  about 
the  man.  She  didn't  say  much  about  him." 

This  was  Sunday  evening;  David  had  gone  to  bed, 
and  Danny  had  climbed  up  into  Dr.  Lavendar's  chair, 
and  been  gently  deposited  on  the  hearth-rug.  "No, 
Daniel;  not  to-night,  sir.  I've  got  to  have  my  chair 
just  this  once."  William  had  come  in  for  his  usual 
smoke,  but  he  had  been  more  than  usually  silent. 
When  Dr.  Lavendar  gave  his  calm  permission,  the 
doctor's  wretched  perplexity  of  the  past  month  could 
hardly  find  words.  He  said,  first  of  all, 

"David?  Of  course  you  will  take  him  away.  It 
will  break  her  heart!" 

"A  broken  heart  is  not  such  a  bad  thing,  Willy. 
Our  Heavenly  Father  does  not  despise  it." 

"Dr.  Lavendar,  why  can't  she  keep  him?  She'll 
never  see  that  scoundrel  again!" 

"Do  you  think  a  woman  with  such  a  story  is  fit  to 
bring  up  a  child,  William?" 

The  doctor  was  silent. 

"She  thinks  not,  herself,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar. 

"  Does  she  ?"  William  King  said ;  and  a  minute  after- 
345 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

wards  fumbled  in  his  coat  tails  for  his  pocket-handker* 
chief.  "What  is  she  going  to  do?"  he  asked  huskily. 

"She  feels  that  she  had  better  leave  Old  Chester." 

"Do  you  think  so,  sir?" 

Dr.  Lavendar  sighed.  "I  would  like  to  have  her 
here;  I  would  like  to  take  care  of  her,  for  a  while. 
But  I  don't  think  she  could  stand  it ;  on  your  account." 

"My  account!"  William  King  pushed  his  chair  back, 
and  got  on  his  feet;  "Dr.  Lavendar,  I — I — " 

"She  would  feel  the  embarrassment  of  your  knowl 
edge,"  said  the  old  man. 

Dr.  King  sat  down.  Then  he  said,  "I  am  the  last 
man  to  judge  her." 

"'Beginning  at  the  eldest,  even  unto  the  last,'" 
murmured  Dr.  Lavendar.  "Shame  is  a  curious  thing, 
William.  It's  like  some  of  your  medicines.  The  right 
amount  cures.  Too  much  kills.  I've  seen  that  with 
hard  drinkers.  Where  a  drunkard  is  a  poor,  unedu 
cated  fellow,  shame  gives  him  a  good  boost  towards 
decency.  But  a  man  of  education,  William,  a  man  of 
opportunity — if  he  wakes  up  to  what  he  has  been 
doing,  shame  gives  him  such  a  shove  he  is  apt  to  go 
all  round  the  circle,  and  come  up  just  where  he  started! 
Shame  is  a  blessed  thing, — when  you  don't  get  too  much 
of  it.  She  would  get  too  much  of  it  here.  But — "  he 
stopped  and  smiled;  "sin  has  dene  its  divine  work,  I 
think." 

"Sin?" 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  cheerfully;  "have  you 
ever  noticed  that  every  single  human  experience — ex 
cept,  perhaps,  the  stagnation  of  conceit;  I  haven't 
found  anything  hopeful  in  that  yet ;  but  maybe  I  shall 
some  day! — but,  except  for  conceit,  I  have  never  known 
any  human  experience  of  pain  or  sin  that  could  not  be 

346 


THE      RENUNCIATION 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

the  gate  of  heaven.  Mind!  I  don't  say  that  it  always 
is;  but  it  can  be.  Has  that  ever  occurred  to  you?" 

"Well,  no,"  the  doctor  confessed;  "I  can't  say  that 
it  has." 

"Oh,  you're  young  yet,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said  encour 
agingly.  "  My  boy,  let  me  tell  you  that  there  are  some 
good  folks  who  don't  begin  to  know  their  Heavenly 
Father,  as  the  sinner  does  who  climbed  up  to  Him  out 
of  the  gutter." 

"A  dangerous  doctrine,"  William  ruminated. 

"Oh,  I  don't  preach  it,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said  placidly; 
"but  I  don't  preach  everything  I  know." 

William  was  not  following  him.  He  said  abruptly, 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  David?" 

"  David  is  going  to  stay  with  me." 

And  William  said  again,  "It  will  break  her  heart!'* 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar  solemnly.  How  he 
watched  that  poor  heart,  in  the  next  few  days!  Every 
afternoon  his  shabby  old  buggy  went  tugging  up  the 
hill.  Sometimes  he  found  her  walking  restlessly  about 
in  the  frosted  garden;  sometimes  standing  mutely  at 
the  long  window  in  the  parlor,  looking  for  him;  some 
times  prostrate  on  her  bed.  When  he  took  her  hand 
— listless  one  day,  fiercely  despairing  the  next, — he 
would  glance  at  her  with  a  swift  scrutiny  that  ques 
tioned,  and  then  waited.  The  pity  in  his  old  eyes  never 
dimmed  their  relentless  keenness ;  they  seemed  to  raid 
her  face,  sounding  all  the  shallows  in  search  of  depths. 
For  with  his  exultant  faith  in  human  nature,  he  be 
lieved  that  somewhere  in  the  depths  he  should  find 
God.  It  is  only  the  pure  in  heart  who  can  find  Him 
in  impurity,  who  can  see,  behind  the  murky  veil  of 
stained  flesh,  the  very  face  of  Christ  declaring  the 
possibilities  of  the  flesh!  —  but  this  old  man  sought, 
33  347 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA    RICHIE 

and  knew  that  he  should  find  Him.  He  waited  and 
watched  for  many  days,  looking  for  that  recognition  of 
wrong-doing  which  breaks  the  heart  by  its  revelation 
of  goodness  that  might  have  been ;  for  there  is  no  true 
knowledge  of  sin,  without  a  divine  and  redeeming 
knowledge  of  righteousness !  So,  as  this  old  saint  looked 
into  the  breaking  heart,  pity  for  the  sinner  who  was 
base  deepened  into  reverence  for  the  child  of  God  who 
might  be  noble.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  believe  in  the 
confident  soul;  but  Dr.  Lavendar  believed  in  a  soul 
that  did  not  believe  in  itself! 

It  seemed  to  Helena  that  she  had  nothing  to  live  for ; 
that  there  was  nothing  to  do  except  shiver  back  out  of 
sight,  and  wait  to  die.  For  the  time  was  not  yet  when 
she  should  know  that  her  consciousness  of  sin  might  be 
the  chased  and  fretted  Cup  from  which  she  might  drink 
the  sacrament  of  life ;  when  she  should  come  to  under 
stand,  with  thanksgiving,  that  unless  she  had  sinned, 
the  holy  wine  might  never  have  touched  her  lips! 

In  these  almost  daily  talks  with  Dr.  Lavendar,  the 
question  of  the  future  was  beaten  out:  it  was  a  bleak 
enough  prospect;  it  didn't  matter,  she  said,  where  she 
went,  or  what  became  of  her,  she  had  spoiled  her  life, 
she  said.  "Yes,"  Dr.  Lavender  agreed;  "you've 
spoiled  what  you've  had  of  it.  But  your  Heavenly 
Father  has  the  rest,  in  His  hands,  and  He'll  give  it  to 
you  clean  and  sound.  All  you've  got  to  do,  is  to  keep 
it  so,  and  forget  the  spoiled  part."  That  was  the  only 
thing  he  insisted  upon:  no  dwelling  on  the  past! 

"  I  wish  I  was  one  of  the  people  who  want  to  do 
things,"  she  told  him  with  a  sort  of  wistful  cynicism. 
"  But  I  don't.  I  have  no  story-book  desires.  I  don't 
want  to  go  and  nurse  lepers! — but  I  will,  if  you  want 

343 


THE   AWAKENING    OF  HELENA    RICHIE 

me  to,"  she  added  with  quick  and  touching  simplic 
ity. 

Dr.  Lavendar  smiled,  and  said  that  nursing  lepers 
was  too  easy.  He  had  suggested  that  she  should  live 
in  a  distant  city ; — he  had  agreed  at  once  to  her  asser 
tion  that  she  could  not  stay  in  Old  Chester.  "  I  know 
some  nice  people  there,"  he  said;  "Ellen  Bailey  lives 
there;  she's  Ellen  Spangler  now.  You've  heard  me 
speak  of  her?  Spangler  is  a  parson;  he's  a  good  fel 
low,  but  the  Lord  denied  him  brains  to  any  great  extent. 
But  Ellen  is  the  salt  of  the  earth.  And  she  can  laugh. 
You'll  like  her." 

"But  what  will  I  do  when  I  get  there?" 

"I  think  Ellen  may  find  something  to  keep  you 
busy,"  he  said  cheerfully;  "and,  meantime,  I'll  make 
a  suggestion  myself:  study  Hebrew." 

"Hebrew!"  * 

"Or  Arabic;  or  Russian;  it  doesn't  matter  which; 
your  mind  needs  exercise." 

"When  you  said  Hebrew,  I  thought  you  meant  so  I 
could  read  the  Bible." 

"Ho!"  said  Dr.  Lavendar,  "I  think  King  James's 
version  is  good  enough  for  you;  or  anybody  else.  And 
I  wouldn't  want  you  to  wait  until  you  can  read  back 
wards,  to  read  your  Bible.  No;  I  only  meant  that 
you  need  something  to  break  your  mind  on.  Hebrew 
is  as  good  as  anything  else." 

She  meditated  on  this  for  a  while ;  "  I  begin  to  under 
stand,"  she  said  with  her  hesitating  smile;  and  Dr. 
Lavendar  was  mightily  pleased,  for  he  had  not  seen 
that  smile  of  late. 

Sometimes  they  talked  about  David,  Mrs.  Richie 
asking  questions  in  a  smothered  voice;  but  she  never 
begged  for  him.  That  part  of  her  life  was  over.  Dr. 

349 


THE    AWAKENING    OF   HELENA   RICHIE 

Lavendar  sometimes  brought  the  child  with  him  when 
he  and  Goliath  climbed  the  hill  for  that  daily  visit; 
but  he  always  took  him  back  again.  Indeed,  the  Rec 
tory  was  now  definitely  the  little  boy's  home.  Of 
course  Old  Chester  knew  that  the  Stuffed  Animal 
House  was  to  lose  its  tenant,  and  that  David  had  gone 
to  live  with  Dr.  Lavendar.  "  I  wonder  why  she  doesn't 
take  him  with  her?"  said  Old  Chester;  and  called  to 
say  good-by  and  hint  that  Mrs.  Richie  must  be  sorry 
to  leave  the  little  boy  behind  her  ?  Helena  said  briefly, 
yes;  she  was  "sorry.'*  And  Old  Chester  went  away 
no  wiser  than  it  came.  William  King,  wise  and  miser 
able,  did  not  call.  His  wife  said  that  she  would  say 
good-by  for  him,  if  he  was  too  busy  to  go  up  the  hill. 

"It  seems  to  me  you've  been  very  busy  lately,"  she 
told  him;  "I've  hardly  had  a  glimpse  of  you.  I  only 
hope  it  will  show  on  your  bills.  It  is  very  foolish, 
William,  to  take  patients  so  far  back  in  the  country; 
I  don't  believe  it  pays,  considering  how  much  time  it 
takes.  But  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Richie  you  send  your  respects, 
and  say  good-by  for  you." 

"You  needn't  mind,"  said  the  doctor. 

Mrs.  King  went  to  make  her  adieux  the  very  next 
day.  Her  manner  was  so  cordial  that  Helena  was 
faintly  surprised;  but,  as  Martha 'told  Dr.  Lavendar, 
cordiality  did  not  mean  the  sacrifice  of  truth  to  any 
false  idea  of  politeness. 

"I  didn't  tell  her  I  was  sorry  she  was  going,"  Martha 
said,  standing  by  the  roadside  in  the  chill  November 
wind,  talking  into  the  buggy,  "because,  to  speak  flatly 
and  frankly,  I  am  not.  I  don't  consider  that  her  ex 
ample  is  very  good  for  Old  Chester.  She  is  not  a  good 
housekeeper.  I  could  tell  you  certain  things  —  how 
ever,  I  won't.  I  never  gossip.  I  just  said,  very  kind- 

350 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

ly,  'Good-by,  Mrs.  Richie.  I  hope  you'll  have  a  pleas- 
ant  journey.'  That  was  all.  No  insincere  regrets. 
That's  one  thing  about  me,  Dr.  Lavendar,  I  may  not  be 
perfect,  but  I  never  say  anything,  just  to  be  pleasant!" 

"I've  noticed  that,"  said  Dr.  Lavendar;  "G'on, 
Goliath." 

And  Martha,  in  great  spirits,  told  her  William  at  tea, 
that,  though  Dr.  Lavendar  was  failing,  she  had  to  ad 
mit  he  could  still  see  people's  good  qualities.  "I  told 
him  I  hadn't  put  on  any  airs  of  regret  about  Mrs.  Richie, 
and  he  said  he  had  always  noticed  my  frankness." 

William  helped  himself  to  gooseberry  jam  in  silence. 

"You  do  leave  things  so  catacornered!"  Martha 
observed,  laying  the  thin  silver  spoon  straight  in  the 
dish.  "William,  I  never  knew  anybody  so  incapable 
as  that  woman.  I  asked  her  how  she  had  packed  her 
preserves  for  moving.  She  said  she  hadn't  made  any! 
Think  of  that,  for  a  housekeeper.  Oh,  and  I  found  out 
about  that  perfumery.  I  just  asked  her.  It's  nothing 
but  ground  orris!" 

William  said  he  would  like  a  cup  of  tea. 

"I  can't  make  her  out,"  Martha  said,  touching  the 
teapot  to  make  sure  it  was  hot;  "I've  always  said  she 
wasn't  her  brother's  equal,  mentally.  But  you  do  ex 
pect  a  woman  to  have  certain  feminine  qualities;  now 
the  idea  of  adopting  a  child,  and  then  deserting  him!" 

"She  hadn't  adopted  him,"  William  said. 

"It's  the  same  thing;  she  took  him,  and  now  she 
gets  tired  of  him,  and  won't  keep  him.  She  begins  a 
thing,  but  she  doesn't  go  on  with  it." 

"I  suppose  it's  better  not  to  begin  it  ?"  William  said. 
And  there  was  an  edge  in  his  voice  that  caused  Mrs. 
King  to  hold  her  tongue.  "Martha,"  the  doctor  said, 
after  a  while  and  with  evident  effort,  "can  you  give 

351 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

me  an  early  breakfast  to-morrow  morning?  I've  got 
to  go  back  into  the  country,  and  I  want  to  make  an 
early  start." 

Helena  Richie,  too,  meant  to  make  an  early  start 
the  next  morning ;  it  was  the  day  that  she  was  to  leave 
Old  Chester.  The  plan  of  going  to  the  western  city 
had  gradually  shaped  itself,  and  while  Dr.  Lavendar 
was  writing  to  those  friends  of  his,  and  Helena  corre 
sponding  with  a  real-estate  agent,  the  packing -up  at  the 
Stuffed  Animal  House  had  proceeded.  Now  it  was  all 
done;  Maggie  and  Sarah  had  had  their  wages,  and 
several  presents  besides;  the  pony  had  been  shipped 
from  Mercer;  the  rabbits  boxed  and  sent  down  to  the 
Rectory ;  all  was  done ; — except  the  saying  good-by  to 
David.  But  Helena  told  herself  that  she  would  not 
say  good-by  to  him.  She  could  not,  she  said.  She 
would  see  him,  but  he  should  not  know  it  was  good-by. 
And  so  she  asked  Dr.  Lavendar  to  send  the  child  up  to 
her  the  day  before  she  was  to  go  away; — by  himself. 
" You'll  trust  him  with  me  for  an  hour?"  she  said. 

She  meant  to  cuddle  the  child,  and  give  him  the 
"forty  kisses"  which,  at  last,  he  was  ready  to  accept, 
and  let  him  chatter  of  all  his  multitudinous  interests. 
Then  she  would  send  him  away,  and  begin  her  empty 
life.  The  page  which  had  held  a  promise  of  joy,  would 
be  turned  over;  a  new,  dreary  chapter,  with  no  promise 
in  it,  would  begin.  .  .  . 

David  came  in  the  afternoon.  He  was  a  little  late, 
and  explained  his  tardiness  by  saying  that  he  had 
found  a  toad,  and  tying  a  string  around  its  waist,  had 
tried  to  play  horse  with  it,  up  the  hill.  "But  he 
wouldn't  drive,"  David  said  disgustedly;  "maybe  he 
was  a  lady  toad;  I  don't  know." 

"Perhaps  the  poor  toad  didn't  like  to  be  driven," 
352 


THE   AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

Helena  suggested.  David  looked  thoughtful.  "Da 
vid,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  away.  Will  you  write  a 
little  letter  to  me  sometimes?" 

"Maybe,"  said  David.  And  slapped  his  pocket,  in 
a  great  flurry ;  "Dr.  Lavendar  ga'  me  a  letter  for  you!" 

She  glanced  at  it  to  see  if  it  needed  an  answer,  but 
it  was  only  to  ask  her  to  stop  at  the  Rectory  before 
she  left  town  the  next  morning. 

"Tell  Dr.  Lavendar  I  will,  darling,"  she  said,  and 
David  nodded. 

She  was  sitting  before  the  parlor  fire;  the  little  boy 
was  leaning  against  her  knee  braiding  three  blades  of 
grass;  he  was  deeply  absorbed.  Helena  took  his  face 
between  her  hands,  and  looked  at  it;  then,  to  hide  the 
trembling  of  her  lips,  she  hid  them  in  his  neck. 

"You  tickle!"  said  David,  and  wriggled  out  of  her 
arms  with  chuckles  of  fun.  "I'm  making  you  a  ring," 
he  said. 

She  let  him  push  the  little  grass  circlet  over  her 
finger,  and  then  closed  her  hand  on  it  lest  it  should 
slip  off.  "You  won't  forget  me,  David,  will  you?" 

"No,"  he  said  surprised;  "I  never  forget  anything. 
I  remember  everything  the  magician  did.  An'  I  re 
member  when  I  was  born." 

"Oh,  David!" 

"I  do.  I  remember  my  brother's  candy  horse.  My 
brother — was — was,  oh,  seven  or  eight  weeks  older  'an 
me.  Yes;  I'll  not  forget  you;  not  till  I'm  old.  Not 
till  I'm  twenty,  maybe.  I  guess  I'll  go  now.  We  are 
going  to  have  Jim  Crow  for  dessert.  Mary  told  me. 
You're  prettier  than  Mary.  Or  Dr.  Lavendar."  This 
was  a  very  long  speech  for  David,  and  to  make  up 
for  it  he  was  silent  for  several  minutes.  He  took  her 
hand,  and  twisted  the  little  grass  ring  round  and  round 

353 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

on  her  finger;  and  then,  suddenly,  his  chin  quivered. 
"I  don't  like  you.  You're  going  away,"  he  said;  he 
stamped  his  foot  and  threw  himself  against  her  knee 
in  a  paroxysm  of  tears.  "I  hate  you!" 

It  was  so  unexpected,  and  so  entirely  unlike  David, 
that  Helena  forgot  her  own  pain  in  soothing  him. 
And,  indeed,  when  she  had  said  she  would  send  him 
some  candy — "and  a  false-face?"  David  blubbered; — • 
"yes,  dear  precious!"  she  promised; — he  quite  cheered 
up,  and  dragging  at  her  hand,  he  went  skipping  along 
beside  her  out  to  the  green  gate  in  the  hedge. 

"I'll  stop  at  the  Rectory  in  the  morning,"  she  said, 
when  she  kissed  him,  bravely,  in  the  twilight;  "so  I'll 
see  you  again,  dear." 

"  'By !"  said  David.     And  he  had  gone. 

She  stood  staring  after  him,  fiercely  brushing  the 
tears  away,  because  they  dimmed  the  little  joyous 
figure,  trotting  into  the  November  dusk. 

The  morning  broke,  gray  and  cloudy.  William  King 
had  had  his  early  breakfast ;  of  course  he  had !  Rather 
than  fail  in  a  housekeeper's  duty,  Martha  would  have 
sat  up  all  night.  When  the  doctor  started  for  that  call 
out  into  the  country,  Helena  was  just  getting  into 
the  stage  at  the  Stuffed  Animal  House.  Once,  as  the 
coach  went  jolting  down  the  hill,  she  lowered  the  misted 
window  and  looked  back — then  sank  into  her  seat  and 
put  her  hands  over  her  eyes.  Just  for  a  while,  there 
had  been  a  little  happiness  in  that  house. 

They  were  half-way  down  the  hill  when  Jonas  drew 
in  his  horses  so  sharply  that  she  made  a  quick  effort 
to  control  herself;  another  passenger,  she  thought, 
shrinking  into  her  corner. 

"I'll  only  detain  you  a  minute  or  two,  Jonas,"  Will- 
354 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

iam  King  said  from  the  roadside.  Jinny  was  hitched 
to  the  fence,  and  at  the  doctor's  signalling  hand,  the 
stage  drew  up,  with  rattling  whiffletrees.  Then  he 
opened  the  door  and  got  in ;  he  sat  down  on  the  oppo 
site  seat. 

"I  wanted  to  say  good-by  to  you,"  he  said;  "but, 
most  of  all,  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I — I  have  the 
deepest  regard  for  you.  I  want  you  to  know  that.  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  if  you  would  allow  me  to  call  myself 
your  friend?  I  have  seemed  unkind,  but — "  he  took 
her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  looked  at  her;  his  face 
twitched.  "I  implore  you  to  believe  me!  I  must  not 
ask  anything,  or  say  anything,  more  than  that.  But  I 
could  not  let  you  go  away  without  asking  your  for 
giveness — " 

"My  forgiveness!" 

" — Without  asking  you  to  pardon  me,  and  to  believe 
that  I — have  nothing  but — esteem;  the  most — the 
most — friendly  esteem;  you  will  believe  that,  won't 
you?" 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  she  said  brokenly. 

He  was  holding  her  hand  so  hard  in  his,  that  she 
winced  with  pain;  instantly  his  harsh  grasp  relaxed, 
and  he  looked  down  at  the  white  hand  lying  in  his, 
soft,  and  fragrant,  and  useless  as  a  flower;  he  said 
something  under  his  breath;  then  bent  down  and 
kissed  it.  When  he  lifted  his  head,  his  face  was  very 
pale.  "  God  bless  you.  God  always  bless  you.  Good- 
by!"  And  he  was  on  the  road  again,  shutting  the 
coach  door  sharply.  "Go  on,  Jonas!"  he  said.  And 
Jonas  gathered  up  the  reins. 

Alone,  she  put  her  hands  over  her  eyes  again;  the 
tumult  of  the  moment  left  her  breathless  and  broken. 
She  had  hated  him  because  he  would  have  robbed  her 

355 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

of  David;  and  then,  when  she  robbed  herself  of  David, 
she  had  almost  forgotten  him  ;  but  now,  when  the  chill 
of  the  future  was  settling  down  upon  her,  to  have  him 
say  he  was  her  friend  brought  a  sudden  warmth  about 
her  heart.  There  seemed  to  be  some  value  to  life, 
after  all. 

She  had  told  Jonas  to  stop  at  the  Rectory,  and  Dr. 
Lavendar  met  her  at  the  front  door.  He  explained 
that  he  wanted  to  have  a  last  look  at  her  and  make 
sure  she  was  taking  wraps  enough  for  the  long  cold 
ride  to  Mercer.  He  reminded  her  that  she  was  to 
write  to  him  the  minute  she  arrived,  and  tell  him  all 
about  her  journey,  and  Ellen  Bailey,  —  "and  Spangler, 
of  course,"  Dr.  Lavendar  added  hurriedly.  Then  he 
asked  her  if  she  would  take  a  package  with  her  ? 

"Yes,  with  pleasure,"  she  said,  looking  vaguely  out 
into  the  hall.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  David.  "  Where 
is  the  package,  Dr.  Lavendar?" 

"I  told  Mary  to  give  it  to  Jonas,"  he  said.  There 
was  a  moment's  pause,  and  she  looked  at  him  dumbly. 


"He  isn't  here,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said  gently. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Lavendar,  tell  him  I  love  him!  Will  you 
tell  him?  Don't  let  him  forget  me!  Oh,  don't  let  him 
quite  forget  me." 

"  He  won't  forget  you,"  Dr.  Lavendar  said.  He  took 
both  her  hands,  and  looked  into  her  face.  It  was  a 
long  and  solemn  look,  but  it  was  no  longer  questioning  ; 
the  joy  that  there  is  in  the  presence  of  the  angels,  is 
done  with  questioning. 

"Helena,"  he  said,  "your  Master  came  into  the 
world  as  a  little  child.  Receive  Him  in  thy  heart  by 
faith,  with  thanksgiving." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  trembling,  and  without  words: 

356 


THE    AWAKENING    OF    HELENA    RICHIE 

but  he  understood.  A  moment  later  he  gave  her  his 
blessing;  then  he  said  cheerfully,  "I  must  not  keep 
you  any  longer;  come!"  With  Danny  at  his  heels,  he 
walked  beside  her  down  the  garden  path  to  the  coach. 
It  had  begun  to  rain  and  the  leather  curtains  flapped 
sharply  in  the  cold  wind.  Jonas  had  buttoned  the  big 
apron  up  in  front  of  him,  and  it  was  already  shining 
wet;  the  steaming  horses  were  pounding  restlessly  in 
the  mud. 

She  did  not  look  about  her.  With  unsteady  hands 
she  pulled  her  veil  down;  then  she  said  faintly,  "  Good- 
by — "  She  hardly  returned  the  friendly  pressure  of 
Dr.  Lavendar's  hand.  She  was  so  blinded  by  tears 
that  she  had  stumbled  into  the  stage  before  she  saw  the 
child,  buttoned  up  to  his  ears  in  his  first  greatcoat,  and 
bubbling  over  with  excitement.  Even  when  she  did 
see  him,  she  did  not  at  first  understand.  She  looked 
at  him,  and  then  at  Dr.  Lavendar,  and  then  back  at 
David,  to  whom  it  was  all  a  delightful  game  which,  the 
night  before,  Dr.  Lavendar  and  he  had  got  up  between 
them.  It  served  its  purpose,  for  the  child  had  no 
suspicion  of  anything  unusual  in  the  occasion. 

"Pm  the  package!"  said  David  joyously. 

The  stage  went  sagging  and  rumbling  down  the  road. 
For  a  long  minute  Dr.  Lavendar  stood  in  the  rain,  look 
ing  after  it.  Then  it  turned  the  corner  and  was  out  of 
sight.  He  drew  a  long  breath.  David  had  gone ! 

A  minute  later  he  and  Danny  went  back  to  the  empty 
house. 


THE    END 


